Nice wolf? Imprint? Beltane's head jerked to a tilt, bewildered by such statements. Was Zharko a nice wolf? He was The Commander. Could a commander be nice? How did nice exist alongside a serpent like Blackthorne? In any case, she could not help but respect the not of the woman's statement. Not his to keep! She liked that. Maybe Beltane had come to appreciate the defiance of not wanting to belong to anybody even more since she had come to Iromar. Even Blackthorne knew he did not own Beltane. He was all flattery with her - was not assured ownership. It made her like Wren.
"Real? How subjective!" She laughed though it was not an unkind laugh but rather, she enjoyed the questions. It was seldom that somebody wanted to talk to or about her and not simply seek some specific answer from her. This woman truly wanted to know. "Many dead here. Many more will die here. I will listen to them, speak for them. And when another place calls, I will heed it." Her head straightened then as she probed the girl in response - daughter of an alpha, princess, stolen princess. Hah! Is that what she was? Beltane could put it all together.
"Pack keeps pack together. More pack wolves than alphas, no? Alphas are just loners without pack. Packs are still packs without alphas." There was a wickedness to her grin as she thought of all of Blackthorne's followers - they could uprise any time and she had a sensation within her that told her they just might if he ever portrayed himself as weak. Yes. There'd likely be many more dead in the future.
"Hmm. We have a Once-Prince here. Who are you, Once-Princess? I am Beltane the Listener, the Silvertongue. Beltane, friend of Once-Princess." And with that, she bowed her head ever so slightly though she still wavered atop unsteady paws, a swaggering drunkard of a wolf in essence. Drunk from the curiosity, the existing between planes.