Raelan liked to think that he had a careful eye for things, that his memory was as sharp as an elephant’s, and that there was nothing nor no one who could slip by his attention without him knowing. However, in the end, he was only human a wolf.

When the figure before him turned, it had taken him far longer than he would’ve wished to recognize her. Although perhaps that was not entirely his fault either, considering the last time they had met, Raelan had been caught beneath the influence of a rather sad flower.

In fact, it wasn’t until she spoke that it really dawned on him. Enough for the pale silver-blue of his eyes to widen in subtle shock at the words that had tumbled from between her teeth. Outside of the melancholy he had worn that day, he was a…large man. His body was built for strength, his teeth for tearing, and his claws for…shredding. His eyes were as pale as the northern sky, frosty as they often looked roaming cryptically across another. He would’ve liked to think that he looked like a formidable opponent for anyone else who might’ve stumbled upon him. That the knight might’ve been a wolf that others would do their best to avoid had they had any sense…

But this girl?

Kiva, if he recalled the woman’s name correctly, was apparently vastly different than any of the others he had met in this world.

She was blunt, honest, and held a tongue that appeared to work before her mind did.

And after a few tense seconds, Raelan started to chuckle.

No, fortunately, I think my mind may be safe out here. He said it in a whisper, as his eyes furtively scanned the cliffs around them. But if you see a blue flower, he warned, Don’t look at it.

However, the topic of the wedding was a diversion his mind had needed; and when her eyes had cast toward a place behind him, he took his chance to really look at her. She was a beautiful woman—natural by the looks of her fur—with the likeness of the wood in autumn. But she was a loner, he reasoned, not by the sheer emptiness of others across her scent, but by the mere fact that she somehow seemed to be everywhere.

This thought made him chuckle.

Had I not known any better, I might’ve thought you were following me from all the way up north so that you could crash the festivities of these southern wolves. What had they called them? He chuckled, A wedding crasher, as they say.

The Gods only knew that no wolf would be missed within that company; it was as if the entire continent was migrating for the wedding.

Kiva, was it? He rumbled smoothly just as she uttered out her own name. You had the unfortunate…or rather, fortunate—who’s to say—opportunity to meet me at a time when I was not myself. He tried to clarify before rolling his shoulders into an idle shrug.

Perhaps it would be best if I reintroduce myself, he uttered after a beat, as a ghost of a chuckle slipped between his lips. Hello, my name is Ser Raelan Whitewood, Lord Commander of Eastrenhold. He introduced himself with a quietly formed bow as his chin dipped once before rising. And you are Kiva, a woman with…an observant eye.

That was kinder, he thought, than the other titles he might’ve playfully given her.

But as her words softened toward a digestible comment, masked in the humor she seemed to weave with expert craft, his mouth pulled into a shadow of a grin.

As long as there are no blue flowers nearby, I think I’ll be okay. It didn’t help that the south was covered in red suspicious flowers, but Raelan did not give those blooms a lick of his attention this time. Anybody could be a wedding guest, he jested back, better thinking you were one versus a wedding crasher, if you asked me.