Redsand Canyon i won't go down your blushing bride

her muzzle lifts from the smooth surface of the boulder, eyeing the man that had chosen to approach. she dwarfs him by a few inches, and he has that same otherness that donovan possess; a softening of his features, an odd pattern to his coat, his fur ununiform. tongue pulls over her fangs, and she shifts. she wants to know what part of laying here seems to prompt him to offer help, but a glance to her limb and the scars the cross it provide an answer. 

"it depends," she answers, shifting. a beat, before she probes, "who are you?" gaze narrows, trying to discern the reason for his otherness.