no sh#@, sherlock!

Aurielle’s head tipped slightly at Hemlock’s assurance, more at the remark of her appearance. Such blatant flirting was wholly unfamiliar to her experience in life, though she put to a sense of ingratiation. He wanted something. His comment as to Valhalla’s preparation under her rule brought a brief laugh. “One can be the greatest leader of all the lands, and still be caught unprepared.”

His question as to their lack of resources gave her pause, as she considered the stores of whale meat that had been painstakingly preserved and cached, carefully guarded from small vermin, the moose meat, and the many stores of venison from countless deer. Some would have spoilt, even preserved, but their foodstuffs were, for the time being, hold them through the early winter, under normal circumstances.

His offer brought a gentle smile to her features as her eyes shifted away to scan the dark, flat plain, seeking out the nervous movements of any prey. They might have gathered at the single stream that ran through the Dancefloor. Her eyes turned back to Hemlock as she studied him. His stripes, horizontal though they were, would break up his form in the already uncertain lighting. Her own pure white, even dusted by ash, was still a beacon even in the dark.

“Do you desire a home?” Her question was blunt, shrewd in tone as her head cocked.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think