The Bracken Woods A northern visitor

By then, she struggled less to decipher the other woman’s words. Redtail Rithe—Redtail Rise, she figured, although neither name was familiar to her. Sorting through memories, pulling what names she could muster up and—a quick yipe, attention diverted enough that she’d managed to ensnare her hind right paw in a particularly thick and angry tangle of brambles. Similar to a cat that’d just stepped on something sticky, she shook her paw vigorously a couple of times until she was freed, gaze cast downward and a frown tugging at her lips. Be more careful, she reminded herself gently and, with a lengthy exhale, she proceeded onward.

The places described were as unknown to the other as they were Kovette. Oh, well... she thought, knowing that luck could only be on her side for so long. Or could it?

Kovette was not so quick to reveal her father’s name, visibly conflicted as her face contorted into something halfway between skepticism and outright worry. Her father had warned her to only ever give what information was necessary, to not overshare—but would this not benefit her, help her in her travels, in the end? Maybe, she reasoned.

“Alexander,” she finally answered, watchful moreso now of Lilia than the ground underfoot. “But he hasn’t been around here in a few years now, I think...” The elder northerner had never given too much detail in regards to the matter—he’d always said that there were certain stories he would never burden her or her siblings with the knowledge of—but one thing he had warned was to be careful of those that knew him. Some could be considered friend but those that were clearly foe? Be smart and run. With the warning fresh in her mind, Kovette searched for any sign of recognition from the other woman, ready to make like a rabbit in a moment’s notice, should she need to.