He had approached her about leaving Glorall only days before and she had known even then that it was about Viora. The girl had shown up quite a bit as of late but she would never speak to Magnus around Fjall. She could often feel the weighty gaze of the female on her and it made her self-conscious, always quieting when the pale female came into view and becoming nothing more than a wraith, moving about in the manner she had done before with her mother. Viora had not done anything untoward yet. She had not threatened Fjallraven, had not harmed her, but she did have a way of staring that made it abundantly clear to the charcoal female that her presence was not a welcome one. That she was intruding on time spent between Magnus and Viora. Honestly, as of late, Fjall had felt the stirrings of something whenever she was forced to leave their presence. Jealousy maybe? Still, she would watch from the shadows of some sycamore trees while they talked and she could see why Magnus was so close to her. Viora was strong, confident, beautiful. Everything Fjallraven was not.

The day had finally come when they were to leave and she had drug herself out of her shared den with her imprint with a forlorn look back at all the decaying pine cones and scented flowers she had used to create a lovely atmosphere. What would she hunt in Spirane? They didn't have oysters there, that she was sure, and it made her chest clench with worry. Since the take over here she had been worried that Eden might try and force her out. Make her do something, but he had left her alone, and now she would be going somewhere that she wasn't sure that was possible. Still she would follow Magnus anywhere and apparently he would follow Viora anywhere.

So she sets off after them like a shadow to the hip of her imprint, head tucked low and owl eyes glancing around in a fearful manner. The freelands held a sort of fear for her that makes the large scar on her shoulder throb in memory of pain. She has grown a nice assortment of scars over her lifetime; the bite wounds that had puckered up but managed to lay hidden at the base of her tail, the claw marks that could be seen on her hips if she turned just so and the large scar on her shoulder where Jaidah had ripped her flesh down. Yet she was still beautiful in her own way, even if she didn't know it, with her charcoal fur dispersed with golden streaks down by her hips and tail and her gently lined eyes, overlarge ears. Her body always bordered on malnourished yet she had the voice of an angel.

When she used it. At the moment, however, she was being forced to follow Viora as Magnus split off to go do something and she had a momentary panic attack at being left alone with the pale girl. But she doesn't argue - it isn't her way. Instead she follows Viora at a distance, close enough that she can race to her side if someone tries to bother her (Fjallraven, not Viora, because Fjall wasn't about to save the girl!) but far enough that she doesn't get scolded. Finally they arrive at Spirane and her mouth is agape as she breaths deep, pausing a few feet behind Viora to glance around.

Silence. It is all she knows around Viora but it is broken with a beautiful female approaches and Fjall's eyes widen in admiration of all her titles. Her voice is kind and she seems nice. Too nice. Uh oh. Now her eyes snap to Viora and she shifts in uncertainty, glancing at Daenery's in a kind of beseeching manner. "Hello, your Majesty," she murmurs softly, bowing her head and stating the only title she can think of in a respectful manner.