Wild and Free

Isla this won't hurt a bit He hadn't advanced closer and he hadn't drawn the weapon on his back. That Isla attributed to luck and luck alone - stupid, careless - and she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding as it became clear that they did not bear each other any ill will. That she could have caused him any harm was almost laughable in itself. Her hands were made to mend, and while she would defend herself as fiercely as any who strived to stay alive, she took no pleasure in violence. They regarded one another and Isla allowed herself the chance to glance over him properly - a lean and agile frame draped in a greatcoat, and from the pike she guessed he led an active life. Of all the things she had been expecting in that moment, his name was not one of them. Surprise caused her to smile, and she straightened slowly from the ground. "My name is Isla," she murmured. "You... do you live here, Rory? I mean... where is here?"