There is a quiet joy in his uncertainty. She feels it like a cool breeze, some part of her eased by the knowledge that - for once, at least - she is not entirely alone in her unknowing. Yet, she cannot discern whether she truly finds joy in it or rather, if she feels as if she should have cured his unknowing years ago. Had she wasted her time being haunted by the pale ghost of Malum? Had she spent ceaseless days and nights beneath a vast sky, alone and away, for no reason? She could have been here. She could have stood in his shadow and felt something
new inside her. For a moment, she felt a pang of anger over her wasted time. Fear and anger. Yet, he had something about him that seemed to brush that all away. She'd forgotten about
that part of this.
His words make her ears flicker back. She eases forward with a slow step, her face anxious and sly as she begins to speak, her voice tentative and fragile. "You're telling me this? You say you won't forget me? Because you don't want to or because you can't?" Her words are gentle and yet testing, both towards herself and him. Her posture verges on submissive as she queries him, hope glistening faintly behind the owl-yellow of her eyes. It's then that she turns on him, snapping up at him. She cannot help it.
He stands firm though, a fact that makes her eyes narrow in curiosity as he huffs and grumbles. His words make her snort quietly in response, a half-hearted combination of a laugh and shock. Inescapably. She ponders for a moment, half turned from him, if it is wrong to feel content with those words. Is it wrong to desire such a claim? To not be forgotten... to be desired... is it wrong to feel a buzz from that? She does not respond immediately as he lurches forward to take chase; instead, she ducks down and pivots, lunging up once more in an effort to butt her muzzle into his chest. It is a fight but a gentle one. Then, she pulls away and darts forward like a fox, twirling as she dances to turn away and then back once more, her forequarters lowered in play.
"Men like you always say these things," her voice is coy as she watches up at him with a smirk, suddenly alight with the blood of her family, "but you'll get bored if I'm not a challenge." She lurches forward again, nipping lightly at his paws - dance, she thinks as she does so - before darting back with a sprint. She twists her path around a broad tree, tempting him forward once more as she peeks out from behind it. "Are you a fighter, Jack?" She raises a brow and then, she takes off once more. Deliberately slow and predictable perhaps but nonetheless, she wants to know.