Porcupine Ridge katakan

were stigmata newer to these parts, he might have reacted more violently to finch's unwarranted contact; as things were, however, the warhound had encountered enough wolves of these wilds to know they all varied wildly in stupidity and each of them came with a plenitude of issues - boundaries notwithstanding. as this wasn't the most harmful thing that had been done to him here - and because she had enough sense to appear contrite - stigmata was able to forgive her rather quickly.

he deflated, taking up a posture more equal to her own despite the disparities in their sizes; in their... everything. she, the sweet and golden ingenue, named for a perching bird - and he, the cinderwood wraith, gladiatorial and ungentle.

lifting his chin, he motioned for her to join him, as he returned to his path through the ridge. after a seemingly long, intimidating silence - assuming she came along - he asked her (with modest curiosity): "where you come from, is that how you greet all strangers?"