She felt flattered by Leotie’s desire to know her name, or more of, the reason she said she wished to know it. She grinned. Oh, you flatter me, Leotie. She offered a bashful reaction, her head dipping down softly in a nod. My name is Sienna. She’d never had a surname – it was the beliefs of the place from which she came that when a wolf came of age and could pick a mate, then they would decide their own surname… something that meant something to them. She’d played around with a couple ideas from time to time, but nothing ever stuck.

I believe that the gods are to thank for these amazing stories… I’m merely a humble messenger. Yeah, humble her ass… but Leotie didn’t need to know that, if she couldn’t see it already. She loved the rush of these stories, the reactions she drew out of others. Carlos just happened to be her favorite story to tell… what he did really depended on the day and how she was feeling… some days he was a savior… some days he was a warrior who fought off thousands of wolves at once… stories fit for cubs or stories fit for adults… all in her average day.

The woman continued to flatter her, and Sienna couldn’t help but grin at the thought. Thank you ma’am… never before have I met someone so pleasant. It was true – most cast the lowly bard aside like she was spewing nonsense… which, of course, she might be… but it wasn’t the stories that were important. It was the meaning behind the stories that were meant to be told, just elaborately disguised through the actions of ages past. Yes, she very much liked this woman in front of her. Thanking the gods is certainly important but they are lucky to have such an eloquent story teller to tell the stories for them. That caused her grin to grow, almost appearing to be Cheshire as she spoke once more.

They have my father to thank for that. Where I come from, my family passed down these stories from parent to child for generations – like a pack role that we were born into. He passed the stories on to my siblings and I, making sure we understood them all, so we could share them with the pack, with our children, and our children’s children. Of course, Sienna never really planned to have children of her own. The idea, in and of itself, was mildly romanticized, and she had seen the struggles of others as they attempted to care for their young while also surviving in such a cruel world. I can tell you're from a pack... the one nearby. Do you know any good stories? I like to learn the lay of the lands I'm travelling in, helps me avoid unpleasant situations...

She continued to smile at the woman, offering a soft shrug. I’m not certain children are a possibility for me, especially not right now. I think that’s why I share them as often as I do with strangers. She offered, hoping for a sympathy pull, albeit she did so subtly. This Leotie wolf did not have any stories of her own, and did not have any stories from her pack. This was the point in time her father likely would have made a comment about uncultured swine but Sienna was not as quick to judge. What they might have lacked in cultural heritage could have been made up with other things.

Perhaps, if there are none, you should make some… even if they aren’t the truest… stories that have a reason. Stories that teach something, I’ve found, are probably the best… my history is just that, history, it’s the fables of old that really help others. She offered as a suggestion, though she did wonder about this pack. What is the pack called? Perhaps if I’m in the area again, I’ll stop by and offer you another story. She offered, glancing up at the sky and knowing she should be moving on to find a place to settle down and get some rest. She had been going for quite some time.

She tried to counter, and in a way, Sienna could see she was trying to help. Other’s children… not my own… I’m not sure I even want children, even if it were a possibility. She honestly didn’t know how she could be as a mother. Leotie agreed with her about the stories too, and Sienna was genuinely happy to pass on the piece of advice, even if it meant she might have exposed her own agenda. Leotie didn’t seem to notice it at all.

Willow Ridge. She saved the name as she nodded. It was very nice to meet you Leotie, but I must be moving on so I can settle down for the night. She did not want to stay too close to this pack – she wasn’t sure everyone would have the same reaction to her as the woman in front of her had. Though she supposed she could note that she did have a friend there if anyone questioned her about it, along with the fact that she was still outside the borders. Until next time. She promised with a dip of her head as her loner made her leave, leaving the pack woman to her own devices.