Did she? Maybe. Shh. Meadow's observations were largely academic-- he is mossy and burly. His features are rugged and handsome, and she won't let that soft gaze linger too long. No, no-- wait was that moss? Did it live in his coat? Meadow catches herself on the brink of staring, and then reminds herself that it's rude. She can't stare, though she's near-fascinated by the boy. A stiff breeze lifts the heavy, stagnant air around them. Meadow remembers herself.
Or... does she? Does she remember herself? Sorta... not when he starts talking again. Heaven? That's not a pack she's familiar with, and her brow crinkles for just a moment. He's making a joke, you've read about heaven. Right, yeah he was. Instead the girl tries to pull something together from the cloudy, shy thoughts that ricochet between her ears. "Just the Hallows," she spoke softly, offering a little smile to go with it. Right, she could do this socializing thing. It couldn't be that hard, right?
"I'm Meadow. I like your moss." Right, her name, a compliment... she was actually feeling okay about this. The shy smile doesn't falter, although Meadow isn't keen enough to step closer. Though the green on the boy's pelt wasn't actually moss... she doesn't know that yet. Meadow just likes plants.
