To imagine her with a child is not something I envisioned having to do when I had first met her. There are those among us that simply seem as parents ought to be - she? She was not one of them. Perhaps it was a flaw in my judgement. I am not infallible, after all. Yet, it is still unusual and still, I do not know how to react to its scent and presence. I was seeking her, after all, and not a child. I understand, though, that you must seek both in order to find one at times. It is simply the way these things work. Had that not been the case then surely my own children would have been separated from Achys the day they were born. Such is the curse of dependancy, I suppose.

Though I do not understand the child, I am glad to see the dark form I have come seeking slip from the shadows. She appears in fair health; I am fast to begin observing such a thing, seeking out signs of weakness. It seems she did not befall the same fate as my own mother and I think I am almost... a little surprised. I have assumed for some time that this female is neither weak nor pitiful and yet, to imagine that even she proved stronger than my own mother come the spring is an unusual thing in itself. The illusion my mother has surrounded us all in fast slipping. I wonder, then, if this is an illusion in itself.

I haven't the time to think, though. I see her tail wave (surprising, truly, for I feel as if few are truly happy to see me) and I respond with a dip of my skull, a gesture of kindness in itself. I am not the type for overt displays of such things and yet, I am sure she will understand the sentiment. My demeanour, however, changes when I spy the glossy scars across her face. They are a new addition to her features; I feel my ears tilt forward in curiosity, my eyes fixating on the way the flesh parts the hair for some moments before she steals them away with her voice. When she speaks, I move to meet her eyes, shrugging the words I say off my shoulders. "Your scent. It changed on the borders. I figured you might appreciate the aid." I motion down towards the hare, my eyes darting to the den behind her.

It is not that I particularly distrust her leader or Iromar at all. In fact, I assume they have done all they can to ensure a comfortable motherhood for her and yet... I still felt such aid might be required. It is an alpha's duty, I suppose, to provide for those under their watch. Though she may not call Glorall her home, that does not mean she does not remain under my keen eyes. I am curious about her and why she was willing to accommodate me so long ago; so much so, in fact, that I am consistently drawn towards her in one way or another. There are simply some wolves that I believe would be best closer to me. These packs, these alphas, they often misunderstand what value others have. I detest the idea of it going to waste. Some day, I imagine I will need to find out just what it is Aithne does here. Not today, however.

After a short silence, I cannot help but allow my eyes to linger towards the den once more. I feel my eyes narrow ever so slightly towards the den's mouth, unable to comprehend the series of events that might have lead to such a situation. After all, there are few males in Moladion that I would deem... suitable. Many are fickle or weak, or perhaps too involved in the idea of romance and mate ship. Yet, she does not smell so alike to a male. She has no mate from what her scent would lead me to believe. And so, I must be blunt: "A child? To whom?" There is suspicion in my voice - a dislike, perhaps, at the idea of this unknown male already.