It meant a lot to hear such a thing from such a pretty young wolf. Skywalker felt heat travel to his face as he murmured, “Thank you. You . . . you must be good at reading others, then? I’ve never been able to tell anything about anyone just by looking at them.” Well - maybe that wasn’t quite true; he knew just from looking at Evangeline that she was a kind and weary soul. He could look at the surviving of Evangeline’s two daughters, Elane, Amberbjorne’s heirtheta, and know that she had an affinity for helping and healing. But that wasn’t very in depth. Edaline’s assessment of Skywalker seemed to be something more . . . something skilled, passionate, knowing.
Edaline’s confidence was astounding. The last time Skywalker had seen a confidence in one that young, he had been watching his niece track a deer just by its scent alone, and excel. She had determined that it was a doe, an old one too. It had headed out of Amberbjorne lands to the north. Stars, how Skywalker missed Rue, the only grandchild Elara had ever gotten. Natalya’s daughter, who had suffered so much. She had been sickly, but that never stopped Rue from tracking things constantly. She was a natural. It was a God-given ability. And it had all been taken away when she drowned in that river, so long ago.

“Lord is there anyone?”