Not much to my surprise, the deer-thing does not immediately enter the cave, remaining stalwartly at the side of his companion with a strange bleating murmur. What is curious is that the painted Haruspex remains in the threshold, rather than entering, perhaps shy to the notion that I might so easily drop my offense towards him and allow him in.

Even after the little shadow creature skitters into a darkened bit of the cave, Ashamin remains in the cold reach of the snow, even when those large white eyes of his soul bound beast look out at him with a pleading that even my dense sensibilities perceive.

I look from one to the other, my face bleeding just how little I care for whatever interpretation they take of my offer to either of them, finally settling on the unicorn as his voice breaks the monotonous whistle of the wind outside.

My damp skin ripples in a chilled quiver in an effort to keep itself from freezing. I stoically ignore the sensation, for better or worse; my coat is thick, and yet even now I can feel the warmth of my body struggling against the chill of the sweat that evaporates more slowly than it frosts.

How ungodly cold that wind outside; beneath me, I let my legs shift every so often, keeping the blood moving through their thin flesh.

"Rikyn," I offer in a puff of white breath frozen on the wind, not bothering to lie about the name which was given to me as I might a stranger to this snowy vale, as I have before in my life, creating a myriad collection of masks which I might adorn at will. That he wants to ask me about this land makes my heart warm towards him all the more, purring with satiated ego, and that I am confident I can answer his questions is written in every muscle of my body as I more eagerly turn towards him, my golden eyes shining in an interest that has yet to be relinquished in our meeting.

As long as he does not another regaling of my adventures, stretched thin and aching already in their telling to my sire, he can know whatever he wants of the Basin. It gives purpose to the endless hours of my mother’s stories while we walked from one place to another, and it makes me feel useful.

"What do you want to know?"