There is a small portion of her that still grieves for the life she left behind. And to say she grieves is not the same aspect as one might grieve for a longed one that is lost but it is a grieving process none the less. She missed running with the pack through a dark moonlight forest of pine and fir. She missed the feel of her mother’s tender touch, and the strong tenderness in her father’s gaze when he felt sure she could not see him. She missed the days of lounging beside the den in deep meaningless debates with her brothers and sister. There were so many good memories that her mind still clung to, but then, there were still all those that she hated. The feeling of total despair at the disappointment in their judgmental eyes. The smug grins on her siblings faces when she failed so miserably at tasks they found so easy. It caused her stomach to ache at the mere memory. Uncle had been the only one who understood her, who offered her some form of reassurance that he thought she wasn’t a lost cause. And yet he had left… and she was once more the outcast.

Voltaire speaks again and the smooth gravel of his voice draws her away from the despair of her thoughts. A single dial twitches atop her head as a soft tender smile flashes across her angelic face. ”Yes, it is… full or not I enjoy it, the moon has its own language for those who take the time to understand it.” she replies in an almost distant voice, her piercing yellow gold eyes transfixed on the slim silver crest in the darkening sky, its soft blue white glow deepening as the dusk progressed towards darkness. She lets the silence remain between them, not daring to relinquish the peacefulness of the moment. It had been far too long since she had felt like this, at peace. She didn’t belong here, at least not yet, she was still the newcomer, the loner but here with Voltaire she felt a bit more at ease and less on edge. His voice draws again and she can hear the soft sympathy in his tone. She hated that. A flash of resistance courses through her veins but she forces it down, it was to be expected, after all it would seem that while in her homelands a three year old would be viewed as a young adult, here she was no better than an overgrown pup.

She sighs heavily and stands, arching her back to stretch out her front feet, letting the thick claws rake against the ground. ”Well, it happens to everyone eventually.” she says with a shake of her ruff trying to shrug off the sadness with a playfully amused smile. His next words come as a true surprise to her because technically they HAD just met and well you didn’t normally just invite strangers back home but well, then again things are different here. Her obsidian banner waves happily as she takes a step closer to him, her inky muzzle pressing against the thick fur of his shoulder excitedly, ”Really Voltaire? Do you think it would be okay? I mean I’d love to at least see your home and family anyway…” she replies, eyes glittering with excitement. Could she really find her place here? Having Voltaire there definitely make her feel more comfortable, she hated the idea of just waltzing up to a pack border and crawling on her belly begging to be accepted, especially when she knew nothing of these wolves and their customs… perhaps he could show her, at least then she wouldn’t be running blind anymore.