The woman furrowed her brows at him, and Francis was patient as he let her work out her suspicions weighed against the benefits of a potential brief alliance. He took no offense to the fairly open suspicion; he'd rather encounter someone clever enough not to trust the first wolf they stumbled upon than grow frustrated with someone who couldn't respect the boundaries he carefully maintained. Or, someone who'd agree to a hunt only to leave it all up to him and expect the reward at the end all the same. As altruistic as the Prince would like to be, he also had to weigh that against the harsh realities of this wild life he now led.
Her own nervous laugh broke the mild tension, and the Prince swished his tail at his hocks before gracefully moving to follow the lavender-pelted woman.
Much easier,He agreed.
And I am in no mood to haul an entire carcass back to my borders, anyway. This is a much more preferable arrangement. Are you familiar with hunting sheep?
He caught up to her pace in just a few easy strides, falling in step and flashing a slightly more carefree grin at her in response - before it slid off his face entirely at the stranger's next comment. A sheepish chuckle bubbled up from his throat, and he cast his amber gaze away briefly.
Oh - please, forgive my manners and lack thereof. My name is Francis Delacroix. And what may I call you, Miss...?