Her assessment of the man remained cautious; her body tensed in all the right places as she stood on the precipice of what could soon become an actual disaster. He appeared non-aggressive, which Vaelora could tell from the normalcy that held his tone. Yet his posture—his size—told a different story, one that reminded Vaelora of the hesitation her survival demanded.

She gave a nod as he assessed her, then a quick shake of her head. Are you? She asked quietly, From around here? However, there was relief that quickly swam across her features as he noted the land was not his own—he had no claim on it, he had replied.

Good, Vaelora thought.

And it was then she finally relaxed, if only just.

Her head tilted toward the side, canting just slightly within the darkening sky’s twilight glow. What are you worried about, then? Her voice tumbled from her lips like a rock thrown into the peaceful surface of a pond, sending ripples she hadn’t meant to disturb. He had no obligation to tell her, and she had no reason to ask.

She wished she could take it back.

But she couldn’t.

Instead, she offered her own name in exchange.

And not the ones others had given to her over the years--her very own name.

Vaelora, she uttered softly as her gaze searched his own, And yours?