Badar had been much younger when her father had explained to her what soundlessness meant in the world. Her mother had thrived without a voice through her strength and boldness, but it was not always the only way. Soundless wolves often held many secrets - they merely lacked the voice to speak them, but not a body to act on them. Badar tried to remember that any time she had doubts about her soundlessness, but more often than not, she simply saw it as amusing to watch others struggle to make their wants and needs known. Apollyon didn't have that problem though, and that amused her. He made everything obvious. Badar liked that even if he was a silly boy who wanted to be lorded even when he had such puppy-large paws.

In truth, she had turned so fast for another reason too. Tragic, he'd said. Without his eyes on her, she rolled her eyes slowly. If he wasn't a little lordling, she would have jumped on him right there and given him a taste of tragic - a nip on the ear, a pull on his tail. Losing his lordling tail might have been tragic! But she still couldn't help but wear a wane smile. Sometimes it was just easier to be like Eva. So, Badar didn't hear it.

At least he was a fast learner. See, she thought, you don't need to hear to understand. When he said his name, she grinned and gave a nod before she mouthed it back with a little puff of breath at the end. Then, she thought of her name, her eyes flickering up to the sky for a moment in thought. How to best show it? She'd always been fortunate enough in having most wolves know it simply through her family, but a stranger?

She shuffled back so that she stood sand. With a few swipes of her paw, she tried to erase the pawprints. It was awkward work, her next trick - she drew a paw forward, slender and delicate, before she dragged it through the sand. Two curved lines, messy but - she hoped! - clear enough to look like a crescent moon. With her nose, she jabbed towards the marking in the sand and then up to the sky - my name! Lunar, moon, crescent, eclipse - it didn't matter which Badar she was, only that she was Badar. In truth, her father had said it was a name for the fullest of moons, but Badar preferred it when the moon was like a cut in the sky.

Did he get it? She raised a brow. Did it matter? Not so much! Let him name her whatever he wanted to, and she'd answer to it. Soundless wolves knew many secrets and many names. What mattered is that they had neared the sea enough that it was but a few desperate bounds up a dune and down its slope to the expanse of the beaches. So with another swipe, she wiped away the moon and made a dramatic pointing motion towards the dune - leg held in front, bent into an arrow as her nose jabbed towards the dune's peak. An ear flickered as she gave him a look - then she flicked it again, and leaned into the motion as if to say listen. The waves were there, quiet as they were at times, but it ought to prepare him for where she intended to take him.

But she didn't have all day, so she flashed him a challenging grin before she started up the sandy slope. How well could a little lordling's legs work? She had been born on the sand. She ploughed through sand with little problem; she knew to move diagonally up the slopes, but how fast of a learner was he?