Barrow Fields going to california with an achin' in my heart

Her statement about being alone got him thinking, and he inhaled slowly, trying to pick up any clues from the muddle of scents on her pelt. It was true; it seemed she did wander a lot. He caught the faint, sap-sweet note of Ravensblood there, though faint, she hadn't been in a while. . .and there was something else, something--or someone--familiar. . .

Before he could puzzle it out, she had spoken again, asking him a couple of questions of her own. Shale smiled, flicking his tail as he answered. "My name is Shale," he responded evenly, giving her an elegant nod. "And I was hunting. . .but it seems the deer have vanished."

He cocked his head, fixing her with a warm, if a bit intense, amber stare. "And you, miss? I suppose you must have a name." There was laughter in his voice, though he meant no offense in it; he was quite enjoying himself. In Pema's absence, he had found himself quite lonely, and so to banter back and forth once more with a pretty woman was delightful.