Emberwood I got years of livin' by and how I choose

Since she seemed to be inviting him, Kincaid came forward to stand a respectful, conversational distance from the girl, and again couldn't help but think that she was quite pretty — not quite in the same way as Aphrodite, who might well live on in his imagination for some time, but in a gentler way that put him quite at ease. It made him feel strangely defensive on her behalf when something in the timbre of her voice made him think she knew a thing or two about unfriendliness.

"Well, then here's where I bow to your wisdom," he replied, and found himself grateful, for the first time, that he'd left Nine Lives miles and miles away from any danger. "There's been trouble, then?" he guessed, now probing for more information. It was none of his business, really, except it sometimes paid to be on the up-and-up.

He looked off toward the sea, and noted the precise direction she seemed to be indicating. Along with her scent, which he carefully committed to memory, he thought he'd be able to look her up again if he was well and determined enough.

"I'm from — thataway, I guess," he said, turning his nose briefly north. "But I ain't been home in many a year. I been told I am a tough dog to keep on the porch — but you got that same look about you." She did not seem too put off by him being a stranger, at least, and he'd always found fellow ramblers to be more receptive to his company.