another casualty of society

The response she got from the orange-hued man brought an appreciative smirk to her lips. She was old enough now that pretty much all of her puppy fat had fallen away and she had reached her full height that brought her up to be able to stand eye to eye with her father and brothers. All of her recent traveling had toned her muscles, revealing the beginnings of a very womanly, fit figure. She hadn't really put much thought into the opposite sex or attraction yet, but she had to admit that a compliment like that–as subtle as it might have been–was still nice to hear. She stepped closer at his invitation and reached for the flask while giving him a curious lift of her brow at the mention that it was something stronger than booze. Her family had treated mead as interchangeable with water so she wasn't exactly new to the world of alcohol, but that was the strongest substance she had tried thus far. It didn't dissuade her though and she still took the flask from him willingly.

"I'm Rúna," she replied to introduce herself just as simply, her words carrying the slight accent she picked up from her family. She gave him a grin before taking an experimental sip from his apparently intoxicating brew. It was a very unusual flavor for her, but it brought to mind the herbal sort of flavors and smells that she had begun to learn from her mother as a pup. It was a skill she hadn't pursued very studiously since her death, but those initial lessons still stuck with her. With a hum she passed it back to him after taking a second small drink, licking her lips clean from where the sticky lip of the flask had left a bit of that stickiness on her fur. "Well, now that I've had some of it... What is it?" she questioned with a bit of a laugh, glancing over him curiously and noticing the pack he was carrying and the smudges of dirt that spoke to the herbs he had been collecting. It was easy to pick up information about others if one was observant enough.

"Rúna Trygg"