Thoughts did not so much tick tock behind Avery’s eyes so much as they bloomed. Often, Beltane would see the scheming, the slow, deliberate pausing of a wolf’s face as they considered each path ahead of them with tentative paws. Avery, however, had clear direction. Her thoughts came fast and easily, as honest thoughts often did. At least, that is what Beltane believed she saw as she watched the Monarch.
"A child-snake came to the borders not so long ago,” she began mildly, "not so much a, hm, true snake. Raised by them, perhaps. Half-snake. But he had come, nonetheless. Seeking, perhaps.” Seeking what? Beltane could not say, but if Avery wanted to hunt, a half-snake was a good start. Beltane remembered the half-snake well enough, had even liked him well enough. He had been made of fire, a fire that even Blackthorne hadn’t been able to completely place under his control. Ah, he had hatched so conflicted. As she remembered him, Beltane lapsed into stillness, her eyes unfocused for a moment before she quivered and seemed to reawaken to the world once more. How much of that boy had turned out snake, after all? If he was fortunate, perhaps Avery would be able to catch him and drive the snake’s blood out of him. If there were a wolf possible, Beltane had a feeling they existed in the moors. And who else? Her eyes roamed to the world behind Avery with a hm beneath her breath, a hum of curiosity. Yes...who?
"Hm? Yourself as an opponent?” She blinked. Then, she settled down across from Avery, slowly lowering until she lay. She watched Avery’s face intensely, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her head tilted. Opponent? How could one fight themselves? "Ah, is this how it is done with your kin? Hm. Defeat a part of yourself, yes. Is this how?” Her head tilted to its opposite side, but she did not take her eyes off Avery. She had come with a rather single-minded goal but now the Monarch had piqued her curiosity. Something new to learn, yes. It made her fur bristle oh so briefly in anticipation. Beltane had never been taught the arts of violence, after all, and so they were but a mystery to her beyond the most natural of explanations – wolves, bears and cougars alike fought to kill and maim, they fought for tangible blood. But to fight one’s self? Such battles were waged internally, or so Beltane had fought. In some ways, Beltane was still but a child. But she had to learn too, so that her own children could learn in turn.