Every Little Thing She Does

The third woman to be added to their party seemed hesitant at first, not that Rhythm could see her. However she seemed to take the invitation easily and thanked them as she made herself comfortable and enjoyed the brew. The stranger remained quiet and Rhythm wondered if she wished to forget as much as herself and the brew master beside her.

Iolaire moved a little closer to her silver marked form and the old woman smiled softly. Allowing herself another swig with the newcomer she sipped gently at the draught. She wasn’t over doing it, the brew had given her a light feeling and the emotions she struggled with were put at bay. Iolaire kept the conversation going and asked where her companions were from.

”Many different places.” She started, her age obvious in the way her fur was marked with grayed hairs. Rhythm lived in many different places before arriving here. She was on her way to an old home now. ”I’m about to head to the eastern pack, Abaven.” She spoke softly, her sightless gaze shifting from Iolaire to the newcomer. ”And you, Iolaire?”