Suppressing the urge to chuckle, so as not to insult the little winged creature, he watched the flighty emotional change that was so very characteristic of a fairy, wondering what had gotten her so upset. He didn’t want to intrude, usually once these chatty magical ladies became comfortable and began talking they freely shared their stories, secrets and other valuable information. It was a matter of trust but the very fact that the raven had brought her to him was already a very good sign and they both knew it.
“No, I’m not from here, little one.” Dustfinger spoke, frowning a bit and turning back toward his camp where the tents would be able to warm them both. “But I do know who may be responsible for the cold... I’m searching for him.” he explained with a small sigh. “My name is Dustfinger.” he introduced himself with a nod of his head, then gestured toward the horned marten. “This hungry little creature is Gwin.”