gilded thicket

The scattering of birds taking off through the thicket causes her ears to fly backward. Paws take a few steps away until the accented voice speaks back to her. Her head moves, turning to search for the voice as her ears press back forward. The stranger's question has her lifting her brows slightly, head giving a slight shake. "Can one truly ever say they are lost?" Pythia poses back as she holds her ground, keeping her stance confident for the moment.

"Do you search for something?" She asks, head turning away from the female to scent the area. "I smell something citrus, but this doesn't feel like a fruit orchard," Pythia comments, curious and insightful. Orchards were always more airy, bright, full of fruity scents while this place smelled damp and dark. Her face turns back to the woman, waiting patiently for a response now.

"speech"