She figures it was only a matter of time before her mother came calling. Honestly, she was expecting her father to come first though, or maybe even Los, but it was Malina will all the gruffness of a woman ready to offload her work onto some poor bastard. That poor bastard? Mana, of course. There are benefits to being the daughter of an assassin and an elder and yet, there are just as many downfalls. For Mana, it meant she had a collective knowledge of Moladion, a skillset some might envy but it also meant she was at her mother's beck and call, an apprentice that would never graduate because it made her mother's life a little easier. See, Malina knew she was being called for but it was Mana that was summoned to answer such a call.

Mana barely fights it though and instead, she is slow to amble through the free lands; she pauses from time to time to scratch at a root or nibble at her paws, only announcing her eventual approach when she is at the cusp of the riverside. By then, she sky is a shade of blood red, the fields casting deep shadows with every blade of grass. Through them, Mana waves with swaying steps, her shoulders rolling lazily as she spots the summoner; they are alone, after all, and yet there is a flicker to her white ear when she smells the woman. Taviora? And not just Taviora but a goddamn queen. Mana cannot help but give out a small 'huh' of amusement and surprise as she issues a bark from behind Zelda, pausing and leaning her weight to one side. She is starkly casual, all too obviously a wolf of confidence and disinterest and yet she eyes the woman carefully with a raised brow.

She flicks her muzzle towards the woman then. "So, you're the one hunting for Malina, huh?" Formalities, it seems, were not genetic. At least, her father's formality had been lost on her. Mana was, after all, a daughter too much like her mother.