Eleanor continued to lay upon the fallen tree, seeing no need to rise quite yet. The day was growing darker as the sun began to set, and the weak light trickled down and warmed the pelt of the female. She stretched languidly, alone with her thoughts. She though vaguely about her past, the past that had shaped her into who she was today. Although it had been torturous, coming into herself, it had been worth it in the end. Now she was realizing that she was content, even though she was alone- content with herself, at least. It had been a long, tough journey to find herself and now it was beginning to end. She had perfected the herbs she ate on the daily, the ones that gave her a womanly shape, and she had perfected her posture, her voice.

So what was left? To fix the problem of loneliness, for certain. It seemed, however, that she would not be alone on this night, as a familiar scent drifted towards her nose followed by a familiar voice. Eleanor cracked open one vibrant eye and took a moment to look over the female. "You never did give me your name." She said, rising from her fallen log slowly, stretching her body out before jumping down and approaching the female. They had come into each others lives so chaotically, but it seemed as though they were destined to meet again.

The still-stranger seemed conflicted. Silence filled the air for a moment before the female spoke again, and Eleanor tilted her head only slightly. "I am without pack, mate, or friend." She stated bluntly, though her eyes were filled with something akin to sorrow. "So yes, I am alone." No body to warm her at night, no safety blanket, no security. It was, still, a hard life that she led. "You smell of the moors, Iromar, correct?" Eleanor looked at her with a curious expression. "It must be nice, having the security and support of a pack. But I'm not so sure it's for me."