Her words seemed to stop the stranger in her tracks. Eleanor watched as she seemed to crumple towards the ground, and the singular word did not hold the aggression that her previous words had held. She almost felt guilty, for a moment, perhaps she should have made something up- something to soothe the clearly troubled mind of the female before her. The woman understood her senseless violence, some time ago this had been her, before she had changed her gender and needed to take a more defensive standpoint. She wasn't one to seek out fights, not anymore- not since she had had to face so many with little provocation. Scars hid themselves beneath her thick, plush fur, and they were testament to the life she had lived before coming to this place.

The next words came as a surprise to Eleanor and she frowned slightly, almost catching the shakiness of her words- it clear, though, that the female was shaken and her past hostility was gone from her face. And the woman could tell, in the stranger's eyes, she was more confused and scared than anything else. "That's not true." She said with a slight tilt of her head. "I don't know anything about imprinting, but I don't think it's romantic, necessarily. Fate leaves you free to choose, whoever that may be." She shrugged. She knew little about these lands and their customs, but imprinting was a hot enough topic that she had heard it discussed before.

The question was harder to answer. Eleanor peered at the stranger for a moment, her vibrant eyes curious, but guarded. Why had it been her to run into this female? Why couldn't someone else have helped her come to terms with who she was? In a strange way, despite her reservations, she was beginning to care for the stranger who she had nearly clashed teeth with. It was interesting, the emotions she was feeling, knowing that the other must have some sort of attraction to her. It was flattering, really- had she done enough work to make herself not only passably female, but attractively female? It bolstered her confidence.

"I think you think I'm pretty." She teased, a smirk pulling at her muzzle. "And you thought those other girls were pretty too. Maybe you just like pretty, soft things." Eleanor took a step towards her and tilted her head. "I can't tell you why you feel the way you do, but I do understand." These words were softer, almost comforting, and she relaxed her stance some. For some reason, Eleanor didn't think that the stranger would attack her.