Lost Creek Hollow Luck is my middle name

When the stranger just so happened to cross his line of vision, Daighre thought, for a second, that it was her again, with the her in question being the woman from before. The annoying, creepy, batshit insane one.
 
But a second glance revealed that no, thankfully, it wasn’t.
 
They were too masculine, for one thing. And their fur was the wrong shade of orange, or red or brown or whatever. They also didn’t immediately piss him off like the woman from the other day had. Not yet anyway.
 
He wouldn’t be surprised if that all changed soon.
 
He kept walking, entirely content for him and the stranger to be two passing ships in the night, with a perfectly good non-relationship.