fourteen - no heart - Heyel's soul - Spirane
sister of warlow, dam of none
this is her in blackouts

If they are not Iromar wolves, they do not seem quite as receptive of her presence as some might. In the few seconds that she has spoken and their eyes have turned to her, she is challenged in the most rough of manner and her pale eyes fall to the prone figure of the darker wolf, Fenrir. Wolves that they are he seems to exude a more primal energy than the others. He holds it contained and she wonders what has created a wolf like Fenrir. What troubles lie behind his pale green eyes. She has shouldered much in her own life. Guilt and loss have torn at her innards viciously; there were days where she could only pause in her long trek to nowhere and try to remember why she kept going. Her brothers spirit was wild like Fenrir's but far less restrained until he met his imprint. He had kept her going with his snapping and foul attitude, trailing after her as if he had to prove his own sanity by being in the midst of her lost one. But she had come to terms with the loss of her family. She had walked on the threshold of death and chosen to come back to earth and finally, finally, let them go.

"Natu." Her name rolls unbidden off her lips, a scar running horizontally on her top lip. She is a myriad of scars; a puckered one above her right brow, the result of a long fall down the Grotto and the source of her past blackouts. A source of the guilt that burdened her. She loved Sven, but how could he ever loved a woman that stole him from his mother? A mother he couldn't even remember anymore, and a brother he claimed she had killed. It weighed heavily on her mind quite often.

Then the golden one steps in, sounding rather annoyed by his companions curt behavior. Natu does not fault the dark one. She has been thus with strangers who have approached her. The scar that runs down her right shoulder blade is made from the teeth and claws of the Queen of Iromar - she had learned then, once more, what it is to place blind faith in a strange wolf. It would not happen again if she could prevent such things. Then again she had wandered into a ground of four males. At least it was not winter season.

Natu dips her slight maw in agreement with Neirin as to her questioning, eying his features before her eyes skipped to the next who would speak. Ifrit was not a wolf that Natu would have immediately taken a liking to even if he had not started off with his sly perusal of her figure. The derogatory way he looks at her coupled with his speech gives her enough knowledge to know where he is going with his speech and even as he begins his last sentence her lips give rise to reveal clean white fangs and her ears press into her skull, hackles creating the illusion that she is bigger than she really is.

But it is all wasted as the sullen one leaps up and tackles Ifrit to the ground, snarling and snapping at each other and her eyes flash to them with an acute irritation - not at Fenrir, but at his unlikely companion with whom he wrestles. The other two, however, seem almost accepting of this behavior as they sidle forward; her tail has come up now and she eyes them both with deep suspicion. "Then it is a surprise he abides the other to live," she says before Neirin can speak, casting another look towards the fighting pair.

Neirin is much more mellow than Ifrit or Fenrir and seems to be the most suave of the group, though Seamus is charming in his own way and a rather pretty color. "I am Natu, of Spirane," she says, once more stating her name though it doesn't bother her while glancing between the pair. Ah, so she was right, Neirin is their pack leader in a sense. "Quite a pack you have," she says, finally allowing a warm, if somewhat sardonic, smile to grace her maw. "Yet you do not seem ill at ease here so I suspect you are from these parts?" Natu, wary and kind, is also keen and intelligent and does not miss much.