The song hums out of her and seems to put her in a trance. The sunlight is warm and cajoling. A nap would be wonderful but it is not safe to do so outside of Iromar. The world hated her brother because he had kept those pups, much to her dismay. She had not known what to do with them and wisely steered clear of her brother's den lest he require her on baby sittng duty. It hadn't bothered her in the least to pin the boy or strike the girl down but mostly because they hadn't listened when Blackthorne told them to do something. She had little appreciation of rule breakers.
Her bones seemed to grumble as she finds herself slipping slowly into a prone position on her belly, head still thrown up, ears back. I cannot sleep, she thinks, but her song comes forth once more and it lulls her, her sweet voice fading slightly. Until the sound of a thud jolts her back into wakefulness. Heart slamming into her rib cage she pushes up, sitting with back legs splayed, a wide-eyed expression on her soft features as suddenly a white and speckled boy comes closer. Her ears flip back, owl eyes narrowing as she shifts, getting her back feet up under her in case she needs to stand or lunge at him. The scent of Iromar is strong on her and she had not thought to hide it, but she had also not thought to be lounging about like some brigand.
His words, however, surprise her even more and she blinks at him before her lips curve just slightly. "Umm, no," she says, sweet voice just as musical talking as singing. "I am a lark." The words come unbidden to her lips, the memory of Beltane calling her a lark there and unable to be repressed. Once said, though, she sticks with it, a slight tilt to her snout to show her own agreement with this statement. Haughty, she was not, but Natiya could be whatever was needed. For now, she would just be what she wanted.
"Um... who are you?" It is a blunt question but it is the first one that pops to her mind, unable to considering any other alternatives. Uncertain too, since he smells of so many scents but also something earthy. Delicatly she sniffs the air, tilting her head slightly in confusion. "What is that smell?" Whatever herb he had taken, it clung to him heavily.