Firefly Ravine i want to be fed every night the breath of extinct creatures

He calls her by a different name. Her ears fall back against her head for a moment before swiveling back up, alert. Any warning she gives him is dismissed when he doesn’t realize who she is, mistaking her for (if she’s not mistaken) his daughter she’d met and dares to step closer. Does he not note the change in the air? The brute is far from being a spring chicken, but certainly his nose is not broken too?

Thuringwethil narrows her eyes and, this time, dares to growl the second warning to prevent him from getting any closer. If he hasn’t picked up on her scent now, then it is for the better, and she can slip away before it is too late, but if he thinks she is someone else, will he pursue if she just leaves? “You are mistaken,” she says gravelling, growling all the while, and taking a step back to account for the distance he’d shortened.