Disease was not a scent he was a stranger to. For too long, the Grim himself had once worn the scent of death and disease like it was a personal perfume but those days were supposedly behind him now. New days brought new things and new experiences, and with this new day, there was a stranger upon his borders.

Inhaling, the tom would wind through the bushes separating him from the border, basket in his jaws as he walked, reaching out in an attempt to make contact with the woman, "You chose a strange place to appear. We are open, yes, but what could you bring to our people?" Pushing his frame from the thorny bushes, peat squishing under paw as he drew himself up, feeling rather short as he gazed at the taller woman, tail slowly flicking behind himself. His own paws were stained by green, the scent of burnt nicotine and smoke hanging around his frame, a scent he usually covered with flowers or attempted to. Certain stresses had led to the renewal of a bad habit recently, but he truly didn't give two shits. Glancing her over, he snorted faintly to try and clear a scratchy throat, reaching out to her mind in an attempt, "Name's Aesior. I don't have a voice." he would attempt to speak. If none of his attempts reached her, he would seem a strange creature for approaching and just staring at her.