for every high there is a low

Qanik raised a brow at the strange words of the orchard's other occupant. Surely he wasn't serious. White her fur may be, but that would certainly not have been the first word she'd have described herself as. "I assure you, sir, I am no angel." She watched him approach, his manner non-aggressive, friendly even, but she didn't truly relax.

"Alarmed, no. But the world is a dangerous place, and it does not pay to be careless of strangers approaching, though do prefer to avoid violence," she told him. "You have nothing to apologize for."

She studied him a moment, mildly puzzled by the stranger. There seemed to be something mildly... off about him, though she couldn't quite decide what it was. It could be as simple as hiding nervousness around her; for now she chose to move past it. "I'm Qanik," she offered.



speech.