[center][h2][color=brown]Sierra Tikaavik[/color][/h2][/center]
The stranger was kind her as she wrestled with the oversized straps of her bag, and as he spoke Sierra lifted her eyes to look at him for the first time. 

He was taller than her, but didn't tower over her the way her father and cousins had. He was slim and dressed all in black, which only served to emphasize the paleness of his skin. Sierra looked at him unabashedly, examining the scars that decorated his flesh like veins through white marble. Her gaze likely lingered longer than potentially appropriate, but she had always taken an interest in scars. As her father had told her, they were stories written in the skin. 

Something drew her to him, but she couldn't place what. It vaguely reminded her of the time she saw a hiker near her home; strange, yet she remained. In fact, she couldn't pull away. 

He apologized profusely for being in her way (though she knew it had been her own fault for being careless) and went on to offer to help her, gesturing to take her bag. Instinctively, Sierra gripped it tighter. She hesitated for a second, and he kept on going. Sierra didn't really know what to do; words just, kept coming. Another key difference from home, she noted. 

Finally, the stranger pointed out her bare feet, overflowing with words of concern. Sierra's eyes widened, and for a moment she was devastated. [color=brown]"Oh, dammit!"[/color] she exclaimed, throwing her bag back to the ground and falling to her knees to look through it. [color=brown]"I'm such an idiot sometimes, I swear!"[/color]

Inwardly, she cursed herself. Of [i]course[/i] these people expected shoes. She remembered the time during a pack run, when she stepped on a broken bottle left behind by some careless hiker. The glass had left a jagged scar on the bottom of her foot, and her cousin Leah had been thoroughly chastised for not keeping a better eye on the trail. Of course the cities of the humans and the... well, the others, would be full of such dangers.

Hastily, she pulled on a pair of well-worn suede moccasins, produced from her bag. She could feel her face flushing, and she hurried to her feet. [color=brown]"Well done Sierra, right?"[/color] she chuckled bashfully, to no one in particular. She had heard and said the phrase so many times it practically fell out of her mouth. 

The attractive stranger apparently tried to stem the flow of words with his knuckle after introducing himself as Alder. Sierra instantly liked the name; her father had told her how Alder trees nourished the plants around them, and provided a home to fish in their roots. From the way he talked, it seemed the name suited him. 

Sierra blinked, expecting Alder to say more. When he didn't, she snapped out of her distracted reverie and replied, [color=brown]"Yeah, I'm new here. New to everywhere, really. I don't really-"[/color]

Just then, the breeze shifted to blow in her face, and Sierra froze. In all the confusion she hadn't been paying much attention to smells, but this she couldn't ignore. A strong scent (at least, strong to her) wafted off of Alder, and Sierra absently took a long breath to catch it. He smelled a little like the human she'd met those years ago, but it was marred by something. It took a second for her to place it, but once she did, it was unmistakable.

He smelled of death, but oddly, not of rot. Sort of like a dead creature frozen in the snow before it could start to break down. There were other scents too, nicer ones, but her mind wouldn't budge from the absurd idea that she was somehow talking to a corpse. 

[color=brown]"Are you...?"[/color]

Before she could finish her thought, another tall man, this an odd looking one with greyish skin who smelled of age, interrupted.

"[color=a187be]Ex-excuse me sir, mam. If I may, umm, be so bold. Are you of pure blood?[/color]"

The stranger looked to Alder, and Sierra furrowed her brow. What on earth was he talking about?

[hider=Interactions][@Prosaic][@Lord Destro][/hider]