[ For the most part, her secondary assumption is the more correct. He doesn't have much need to designate between any one space of the expansive forest he presides over, when it is all but a physical extension of him. He is by the edges of rivers and lakes and over the strange, familiar formations of boulders and beneath the hollows of canopy where her favored herbs grow as much as he is strolling through the widening paths between trees, before her, now. He has sewn himself to this place, by the very fabric of his elusive being, and it is impossible to remember a time before that oneness became merely a backdrop to his greater sense of self.
The sounds of the narrow brook running down out of hilly ground to travel alongside them and leaves rustling as the birds congregate overhead must serve as landmark enough, unfortunately.
Her answer and her glare slide off his back easily; an animal that is cornered, starved, and alone will bite any hand that strays close enough, whether it means well or ill. He's had the scars to remember that lesson by since he was no taller than the saplings he weaves incautiously between may be by the end of spring. It's still a trouble to tell the important things she says from those that mean less, but he thinks he's catching on. Beginning to, at any rate.
Familiarity with humans is a far cry from even the beginning of understanding them as a species, however. His dealings with them are all few and far between, and even those are only the kind of correspondence held in left offerings and his vague partiality toward their livestock, in exchange for the generosity. And the token show of respect it represents.
Slowing to a stop at the edge of the first real clearing since the dark confines of the otherworldly hollow that housed the wolves' den, he looks back to her, again, scratching the back of his head with an uncertain hand and sending up a tiny, fluttering cloud of grass bugs. She seems to be waiting for something. ]
Don't hold back on my account.
[ It's not quite permission to go, but it's certainly leave to forage.
He's seen a fair few humans wandering or lost who've not known the difference between poison and sustenance, but he doesn't believe her to be one of those. Even though he's led her in the opposite direction of that past winter night entirely, the plant life here doesn't differ so greatly from that on her village's edge. She shouldn't have any trouble finding her own meal. ]
no subject
The sounds of the narrow brook running down out of hilly ground to travel alongside them and leaves rustling as the birds congregate overhead must serve as landmark enough, unfortunately.
Her answer and her glare slide off his back easily; an animal that is cornered, starved, and alone will bite any hand that strays close enough, whether it means well or ill. He's had the scars to remember that lesson by since he was no taller than the saplings he weaves incautiously between may be by the end of spring. It's still a trouble to tell the important things she says from those that mean less, but he thinks he's catching on. Beginning to, at any rate.
Familiarity with humans is a far cry from even the beginning of understanding them as a species, however. His dealings with them are all few and far between, and even those are only the kind of correspondence held in left offerings and his vague partiality toward their livestock, in exchange for the generosity. And the token show of respect it represents.
Slowing to a stop at the edge of the first real clearing since the dark confines of the otherworldly hollow that housed the wolves' den, he looks back to her, again, scratching the back of his head with an uncertain hand and sending up a tiny, fluttering cloud of grass bugs. She seems to be waiting for something. ]
Don't hold back on my account.
[ It's not quite permission to go, but it's certainly leave to forage.
He's seen a fair few humans wandering or lost who've not known the difference between poison and sustenance, but he doesn't believe her to be one of those. Even though he's led her in the opposite direction of that past winter night entirely, the plant life here doesn't differ so greatly from that on her village's edge. She shouldn't have any trouble finding her own meal. ]