The world is not a big and grand place like she has envisioned; it is a humongous, strange place instead. The move to Iromar has not yet lost it's luster if only because she has many days ahead of her to scout every inch of the place. Glorall was a convent for her, sequestered away as she typically was, shy from the company of others out of self-preservation and lack of social interaction. At least here she knew who to interact with - these were all approved wolves by Blackthorne and thus, she did not risk his ire in speaking with them. In fact, she was one of them. A rank, a place, a spot where she could be herself. It did not occur to her that her fact of life was sad, even in the times when she grew a yearning, a need and a loneliness that she could not answer to.

The movements of the other become stilted and restrained, much to the relief of Natiya, who is still unused to such movement. The pack would be a churning mess of wolves for a while as they began to lay claim to bits and pieces while protecting the marshes from invasion. No doubt those wolves, parents of the children, would want to return. It had made her wonder. Were most parents so protective over their pups or was it only because they were taken that they seemed so concerned? Underidge and Sarabi had never expressed such concern over her and most certainly not over Blackthorne.

I do. Natiya's face seems to open at those two words, a slow burgeoning of something sweet and almost excited if one could note the way her lips press together to try and smother a pleased smile. Her ear flicks forward again as she sits slowly when Beltane gestures and her owl eyes blink almost happily. "I am a lark," she whispers with a slow, hypnotic nod in response to Beltane. She is firm in her belief of her brother but very impressionable elsewhere, looking for some guiding light, and Beltane's guiding was unintentional but it led back to something she enjoyed. " The old moon is tarnished

With smoke of the flood,

The dead leaves are varnished

With colour like blood,", she sings very softly, almost murmuring as her upper body begins to sway side to side, eyes firmly on Beltane to see how she would react to her actually singing.