Hideaway Strath aint going back to barton hollow

Just as Rue turned, her greeting was answered by disembodied voice from the treeline ahead. Rue's head tilted curiously as the man emerged, strutting toward her upon a mighty fallen log. His appearance from the woods through which she had arrived was odd-- had he been following her? The hyper-vigilant Rue was not typically caught unaware, but these new southern smells had thrown her off her game a bit. 

Before she could respond, the man had tipped from his perch. Rue's amber eyes widened, and she moved forward to peer into the shallow gulch. A bed of ferns had conveniently-- almost too conveniently-- cushioned the man's fall. Almost as if the whole thing had been on purpose.

"That's a pretty good line," Rue commented, seeing the compliment immediately for what it was. She wasn't pretty enough to be called "pretty lady," obviously he was just practicing his pickup technique. A half-smile creeped across her features. He was funny, all right. This routine was gold-- it would definitely work on one of the many pretty ladies of the Teekon Wilds.