Bramblepoint Tōboe

Lótë offered him a grateful smile as she bent over the kill, relieved that she found no hint of the bitter smell of sickness clinging to it -- only the salt of blood and the musk of the he-wolf who'd slain it. "It does not appear to have been ill," she murmured to the brumal hunter. 

"Thank you," Lótë met his gaze as she backed away from the remains, feeling as though she could sense the red fingers of his gaze brushing along her skin. It was not entirely unpleasant, albeit intense. 

"Is there anyway I might repay your kindness? Anything I could do to help you in return?" It was the way of her homeland to return favors.