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Teeth glinted in a dark-framed smile as bright as the horse he rode, and just as frightening. Caspa could feel her fear, stronger than ever before and she did not even know why: she had hoped that her self-inflicted sufferings and penances had eliminated such possibility for strength of feeling. But of course, the tailor had proven her wrong. Pain, Caspa had discovered, came from another corner, for her, these days. That inebriated evening had been the last time her nerves had tormented her as much as they were now. Ridiculous to merge the two, though, except that the diptych of lichen eyes among those oil-spill curls was a daunting prospect to look away from. She would not look like a panicking rabbit, so she kept hers half-lidded, and moving lingeringly from the horse to the wolf aboard, watchful for any small sign that might signal a tempo change to aggression.
How very kind of her? How very condescending of him, was the first reply that came to mind: unspoken. Caspa, too could display her control, however patronising she thought he sounded. A tone fully deserved, as by the look of it here was a patriarch of the highest order: his words were spoken in a manner she might have expected, liquid, assured, indulgent. Now a tendril of breeze took his scent to her, bringing another wave of not-entirely physical chill down her spine, and the news that this was a resident of Denver's realm - what had he called it - Salsola. Oh, my friend, she thought as the dog's cocksure, bragging expression hovered before her eyes. If this is your competition, your ambitions are dust. But the sinister rider had posed a question and she had a responsibility, as a participant in the dance of polite conversation, to make a reply; her thoughts could not wander too far. "A traveller, yes. Fellow, though, I am less certain. My path is to the South - unlike yours?" Her voice rose into a question: she'd been about to make the assumption he was not venturing far from his home, and thought it wiser to conceal she knew of Salsola at all. Falteringly to smooth the phrase, she added "and even if we were going the same way, I regret your four hooves would soon leave me behind." She had composed herself, barely, but enough to shoot the smallest hint of a glower in the direction of the animal. She would never get over her mistrust of the equine order. They were traitors to all prey animals to acquiesce to canine command, Caspa thought: she was very far from understanding the patience and grace therein.
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