Neverwinter Forest With wild horses running through your hollow bones

If Wren didn't know any better, she would have presumed his charm was some type of flirtation. Except she didn't, because such a thing did not happen to her. Not often, at least, and never with pure intentions. A woman like her was no good for that.
She hesitates briefly before opening her mouth to speak again, as if her own name was a bad omen. Wren, her eyebrows lift, and she takes a small, but loud step forward, crunching a fallen leaf beneath her paw. just moved here. I don't suppose the surname Aquilanera rings a bell, eh? Her lips remain parted, tasting the air. Tasting his scent, where he'd been. Him. Who was this curious vagabond, and why had he approached her?
Not that she was complaining. His humor bounced well off of her own, as it seemed, and he held a kind, yet tired gaze. Slightly older than her, perhaps by a year or two, given the little white hairs that dotted his complexion and the crease of his eyes. The way his muscles had filled out a little more than her own. Not out of shape, but no more did he have juvenile lankiness. It spoke of safety, but perhaps also of danger. 
She tilts her head, a playful chortle rising within her throat. Who the hell are yah, then, tree-hugger?