The game of words did not come easily to her soft lips but Natiya was learning. If she was one thing, it was a fast learner. Whatever token she was given, she would mimic, grow, change and mold to herself. It is why she has kept in the favor of her brother for so long despite not doing many grand overtures. She wished to do something to draw his fervent gaze but only for a few moments. Longer than that in the gaze of Blackthorne was uncomfortable, especially for a thing like her. Lark she might be but fool she was not. Even Natiya understood the cunning that was her brother and she also realized that she lacked the necessary level of it to even be considered on his same level.

It is a bit odd to her that the male sticks around to talk to her. She would stay, listen, and gather before providing evidence and testimony to her brother. "It is in his interest that I am here," she quips back swiftly, though not in a prideful way. A statement, a line in the sand. She hadn't chased him to bask in his handsome gaze, for Art was a handsome wolf. He was just the WRONG type of wolf. The enemy. His next words are strident. Ah, she had struck a cord. "It seems to me," she says in her straight forward way, "That you did since you trespassed there. The Darkbringer does not take light of such matters. At least you were quick enough to leave." She does not rise to any tone until he begins to step forward.

Only then does her passionless face take on a sharper, fae-like edge, her lips revealing slender fangs with sharp tips and fur rising with each step he took. But she didn't back down. She didn't WANT to fight but that did not equate to she wouldn't. To run from him would be to invite ridicule upon her brother. A Silverknife who could not cut - that would be a waste. Ah, so he was talking of the boy Aspis. "What makes you think the boy wants to leave?" Now her lyrical voice is twined with an acerbic tone. "It is the choice of one who to follow and you cannot make that for them. If he wants to leave then he would have found a way, don't you think? He is not as helpless as you think him." A low, warning growl is given as her flanks twitch and she jolts forward a bit, snapping the air as a warning. Don't come closer or she would attack.

"A cat is a demon to a mouse as a hawk is a demon to a snake. From your perspective he is a demon but what of the rest of us that follow him? Did you never give thought to why we do such? No. You seek only to grapple for control because he has it and you do not." It is a wise insight, sudden as it slams into her and flows from her mouth. "You speak of him so dismissively yet you skulk around for those surrounding him, desperate for a touch of his power. Does that make you the mouse, fallen king?" The last words are added with an affirmative nod to herself. The whole speech is impassioned but not mocking, not like her brother, even if there is a strand of that within her tucked away. "What is it that drives you against him and him against you?" Now she redirects the conversation back to him, owl eyes bright with curiosity. The wind shifts, sending his scent straight into her nose as close as they are, and the whiff of clay and dirt sticks there. Not the plains anymore, then, nor Glorall or Spirane. That left Taviora, which was a forest pack, or Diveen, with plateaus. Since Taviora was supposedly aligned with them, well, her money was on Diveen, and with that information she felt an elation grow. Her brother would be proud of her.