Her words—what did she say? Discolored eyes narrowed, head canted if only slightly. 'Nuvts’eyaȟa’.' It would be asinine for him to make even a mere attempt to mimic her words. Instead, his eyes scanned the rest of her frame—the way in which a forepaw rested upon her sternum. Was it her name? Or was she saying something else about herself?

Ashkii would not try to pry an answer out of her; not with words, at least. Instead, a paw of his own copied her movements, resting upon the breadth of his chest. Ashkii. He rumbled back, moving to rest his haunches upon the grass. His tail coiled to rest against the side of his haunches—a stance of peace, yet not without apprehension.

If she did not speak the same togue, the best Ashkii could do was simply cock his head, raise his brows. Was there something of his she so desired? His presence, or the lack thereof? A slow sweep of his brush against the grass spoke of invitation. For conversation, for whatever else it might be that she wanted.