At first, she had thought it was some kind of trick; something had been kicked up or dug out. Why else, then, would she have found the inkling of a familiar scent in the breeze? And not just any familiar scent at that but rather, her mother's. When it had occurred to her how preposterous the idea was, she had moved on to believing that it must have been some heinous error on her behalf; had her nose begun to fail her? She supposed she should have spent more time using it. She'd never been that big on tracking more than prey, after all. Yet, no matter what she did, she could not shift the scent. It stayed and intensified, seeping out from the borders like no other scent could.

Perhaps it had been coincidence that she had ventured towards her mother and father's old den, now reminded of her missing family more than ever thanks to her nose's mishap. Yet, the scent had continued to grow. It blustered in the winter breeze, making her sneeze in confusion. She might have been inclined to try and forget it and yet, a dark figure had begun to rise in her vision.

She had been in Glorall for so long; many of the wolves had been imprinted to her memory. She could recognize them at a distance based on their gait or their stance and yet, something about this figure had caused a sudden stabbing pain deep within her very core. Her heart had suddenly fluttered, choking her up as she paused a distance away. She had almost mistaken the wolf for her sister, Maradona and yet, Maradona never stood like that. Her sister did not have that same fierce, instinctive pride; she had moved to utter the word - mother - and yet, her lips merely trembled. Had she really come back?

Her shock was interrupted, however, by the sudden arrival of another female, though this one reeked of the ocean just as much as Cersei did. Still, her eyes focused on the brawny woman as she stalked towards her mother; in that moment, Cersei had felt a wave of anger and yet, she had to do her best to restrain herself. She despised the idea of somebody threatening her mother in such a way, and she held back the images of her father's torn and maimed body. With a flick of her tail, she had taken off towards the pair, unafraid to step in - and so she did, sliding in beside her mother and half cutting Bellatrix off as she did so. She met the stranger's eyes with her own, her brows furrowed as she shook her head with a silent question.

"And who are you?" She asked Bellatrix flatly, now pivoted so that she faced the woman and stood beside her mother; not once, though, did her eyes roam to her mother's own. Admittedly, she was afraid to do so. If she turned too fast, would her mother disappear? Was this even real?

"She is a guest with me," she sighed, shaking her head in an effort to drive her point across - a false point, but nonetheless. Her intention would be simple: this was to become a misunderstanding, a mere error in communication. "She wished to see the beach but I could not find Eden. As a Bone of Glorall, I took it upon myself to do the tour myself."

She finally turned then, her eyes drifting to her mother's own with bewilderment and awe. Though she wished to gush to her mother and embrace her with every part of her being, she had to keep a distance; she could only hope her mother could understand why. They had to shake their company. For the time being, they had luck on their sides; Cersei had never taken too strongly after her mother and so, the connection in that regard would be much harder to correlate. Instead, she just had to hope that her story would work.