I ought to be impressed by her, perhaps. Yet, she reeks of youth. She reeks of misdirected anger that she has not yet learnt to curb - perhaps that will change the day another seeks her throne as it did with me but for now? For now, it seeks only to undermine whatever joy I might have found within her. Instead, it seeks only to stir my own frustration, to lure out a keenness to misdirect and toy with whatever emotions she lets slip. What can I say? I have begun to learn what fun is and so, who am I to turn it away now that it comes knocking on my borders so willingly?

Nonetheless, I grow warmer with each step we take in sync. Though my anger merely retreats below the surface, I feel more at ease as we move along. I follow her lead, only ever suggesting with a misplaced paw or two to change our path, always leading her towards the water, further and further away from the border. But I am gentle, coaxing, never allowing myself to be too brazen with my intentions.

But her anger is not so well concealed, her words like the winter winds. I merely watch her lips before my eyes drift to hers, testing and probing as I slide out of silence - "Then why don't you teach me, Aster?" I move to press further, to claw at her deeper, but she is fast to interject - she is right, perhaps. Yet, why should I take offence to this? Instead, I nod, affirming her belief. I did what I did in order to maintain neutrality, to maintain the wellbeing of Glorall and little more. But then she mentions it - a father of a dear friend. Perhaps she thinks I am taken aback for I pause for a moment, ears alert and eyes blinking several times.

But then I speak, my tone feigning utmost sincerity though my lips peel back in challenge and amusement. "Forgive me, then, Aster. I did not know you had shown my children something such as friendship. Tell me, did you whisper their name when Iromar was taken back? Did you tell them how you so valiantly avenged the murder of their youngest siste at the teeth of Aranck?" My brow rises. She speaks so fondly of this idea of friendship,
as if I were to blame for the delay in Aranck's murder and yet, I saw nobody flock to Glorall's borders when Moteuh was slaughtered for her curiosity. Strange, no? Strange how everybody seems to point their dirty paws at Glorall while marked with the blood of their own hypocrisy? I remain silent though, issuing her little more than a shrug as I begin to coax her forward once more towards the shores.

"I believe the plains are ruled by a child with sticky, dangerous paws - a woman who sneaks into the packs of others and holds their king ransom." There is jest in my voice, a stark thing compared to the challenge and bite of my previous words. "So why don't you tell me why you are truly here, Aster? To bicker over family affairs and mere opinions?" If she desires honestly then she ought to be honest too, no?