The leader of the grassland does not keep the dead princess waiting long. It would even seem that the white wolf has exerted herself in arriving- for when she does finally appear, the first thing little Achlys sees is the wound weeping upon her back. So slowly is the thick crimson blood spreading through an even thicker white pelt, dying it such a lovely pleasant shade of mahogany. If they were any other wolf, and she not here on business, she would ask to see the wound, perhaps even posing as a healer to get close enough. Often it was that she explored the deep insides of her friends- but it was not often that a friend of hers happened to be a wolf. And a still living one at that. The thought of it was utterly absurd, but her bright gaze was still focused on the reopened wound all the same.

It was the tinkling, chiming voice of the white wolf that brought the younger wolf out of her own thoughts. The older wolf was even closer than she had been before, right on the border where she would be placed right in Achlys face. If Achlys had a concept for personal space, she would move from her spot. But as it was, she did not, and was content to remain in her spot to stare almost cross eyed into the green eyes she found in the white face. A white face much like her own, though without the border stark contrast of black to go along with it. The words had matched the tone, so sweet and false in its intentions. The little wolf found herself enjoying the now leader of the plains, and even started of speaking with a happy bob of her petite skull. "I am Arbiter Achlys to Glorall, my Eden has sent me to any pack and I chose yours." The black and white wolf was by no means a creature that socialized often, so many mannerisms of her and words came forth quite strange. She knows her use of possession when it comes to Eden, but she spoke it because it was how she felt. The white wolf could take it however she pleased.

But little Achlys was not quite finished yet, though it would seem so, she would burst into further words out of what appeared to be utter silence. "What do I call you pretty wolf of the green sea?" She smiled, then, something akin to a grimace across her features for it was just the way she happened to smile. Or tried to, anyway. For the wolf was not only the obvious leader of the land, but she held green eyes herself and Achlys did enjoy the meaning hidden in her words and wondered what the other might think of such things. If she were to even think of them at all. Not often did she find wolves who thought remotely like her, if at all, but she thought that one day she might stumble upon some as such. And maybe little Achlys was particularly hopeful this day; hopeful in the eyes of a current Queen and her King awaiting her back home.