The girl, like himself, bore tell-tale signs of her heritage. She was more subdued than his own pelt, but her reddish hair reminded him of his sister. In her laxidasy way he found familiarity; of the way his sister had been, of the way so many faded faces once were. He found her name earthy, like her pelt, and liked the sound of it. Yet her further commentary served only to broaden the smirk on his face into a toothy grin, ferocious despite his jovial expression.
“Really?” He asked, looking between the girl and her mount. What an odd pairing. She was hardly built for such a massive animal, with her lithe body and frame. Before he had time to investigate further, the girl mentioned his practice. For an instance, his eyes sharpened and betrayed the frustration. It went as suddenly as it had come. “Practicing,” he explained, lifting one hand to scratch at his neck. “It looks silly without a partner, I’m sure.” A wink accompanied this statement, believing the joke to be on him.
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