Hushed Willows Take me back to the night we met.

She woke before dawn's light broke, curled close to herself and with her nose buried in the warm furs of her tail. Enveloping her was a thick blanket of fresh-fallen snow, though she cracked the surface with the lifting of her muzzle. She looked around with amber eyes still misted with sleep, then collected herself up onto scrawny limbs as her jaws parted in a yawn.

She shook out her pelt, trapping air beneath the layers that her body could warm while she moved, then pressed on toward the lake's edge to drink. The shallow waters were frozen, as expected, but the ice was easy enough to break through with a swift jab of her paw.

Wayfarer assumed a stroll, eager to locate a decent point to catch a good view of the sunrise.

it was not often that boone could escape from reverie in the early mornings. even less common were the days where he woke before, or even with, the sun.
he had risen with a jolt and a pounding heart for reasons even he did not understand. before he shuffled away from reverie's grasp, he had taken the time to cloak her in an extra bedfur and kiss her delicate face with a soft whisper of love you.
as he lumbers from the high ridge where their den was nestled, he took note of the fresh layer of snowfall. winter would not be kind to them, he felt. perhaps now would be a good time to strengthen hearthwood's claim.
while on his route nearing the edge of the opal, his gaze caught the russet-dappled form of wayfarer. hey, kid, he shouts, gesturing toward her with a tilt of his muzzle as he approaches. fixin' to go for a walk? could find some breakfast too, while we're at it.

An ear twitched atop her head in the direction of a masculine voice, and Wayfarer paused in her tracks. She did not turn to face him immediately. A huff of frustration was stifled, held back by gritted teeth, and she fought to soften the narrowing of her eyes before shifting to glance over a rugged, skinny shoulder.

Boone loped his way toward her, and she felt several things all at once. Annoyance pricked at her hide to look upon him, this unremarkable creature who Reverie had chosen as her life partner, while guilt and jealousy both stirred in a sickly in her gut. Wayfarer didn't know this wolf - it was harsh of her to judge him without giving him a chance.

But it was so difficult for her to trust others, and he'd given no indication that he was worthy of her respect. That plummeted as soon as he dubbed her "kid", which speared her in a way that took her back to a troubled childhood and reminded her how strangers often regarded her on the road: just some dumb kid in a world where everyone thinks they know better.

I'll walk with you, she said curtly with a lift of her chin and a pointed look, before moving to carry on her stride, as long as you never call me that again. It's Wayfarer.

she was a feisty one, wasn't she?
alright then, how 'bout 'way'? that better? if you don't want a nickname, maybe try askin' your mama for a shorter name. there is mischief in his tone. he sees the sharpness of daggers in her gaze, and he assumes that it must come from distrust; as it typically seemed to with the folks he often met around here.
he'd ask another day. he'd let it hurt his feelings the day after that.
for now, he was determined to make a friend out of her, or at least something like it. he cuts around her in a fast-paced lope, inviting her forth with a gleaming gaze.
needed a patrol buddy anyway.