Throughout the day, she had often taken to lurking around the perimeter of the seaside pack's territory markers. At times, she had watched the male she had come to know as her biological... donor? From what she understood of the definition, father didn't feel quite right. The word tasted unusual on her tongue and sounded even more inappropriate lest she dare utter it aloud. Instead, she had just accepted him as a thing to watch: she followed, she watched, and sometimes she pulled scraps of meat off his leftovers. There wasn't much to it - but like all things, it too became stale eventually.

And so, she had begun to explore further interests. She had begun to investigate the other lupine scents of Glorall; one in particular had been unique among the others, with its own floral implications. It reminded her distantly of Asteraia and so, she had grown curious enough to follow it to its source. In the weeds, she had crouched and watched, her pale form blending into the stone and sand beneath her well enough to surely disguise her for (hopefully) long enough - just enough time to really test her curiosity. Turns out, her expectations had been met. Whoever he was, he had been doing something closely alongside peculiar plants and flowers - from the den he was situated by, unusual scents wafted out and filled the vicinity. They made her nose twitch and her eyes narrow; her hair puffed out in offense as some of the scents came forward. Eventually, though, he had made a move to leave and so, she had emerged from her small crevice.

Immediately, she darted after him, quick to meet his pace as she moved so that she loped alongside him. She had grown into a natural confidence, though her fur still seemed to sway with uneasiness as she sought to seek his eyes. She was barely a year old, after all, and such things were made difficult with her small size. It made her feel... stifled, unable to live up to her own expectations of herself. She wanted to appear more put together, but her body language failed her in that regard. Confident, but always a little on edge, a little unsure. Nonetheless, she fell into stride and watched up at him, only daring to speak when his own eyes bothered to meet hers.

"Those plants," she had a tendency, it seemed, to be direct - why waste time with formalities and unneeded small talk? She had questions, and she wanted answers. "What do you do with them?"