She can feel herself swinging between flustered and excited, caught up between the two like a hapless fly in a web. There is a small comfort, however, in the fact that Arkin seems to be caught in a web of his own, swinging between what she perceives as confident and then, whatever it is that makes him flinch – memories, instinct, she cannot say. But at least they were not lonely swinging pendulums, right? She breathes, in and out, grounding herself in the knowledge that she isn’t the only one in the world to feel such strange things. Sometimes, even a smile would make her flinch or shy away despite knowing no harm could come of it. Why did they do it? Why did their bodies and minds betray their hearts at times? Ah, well met, well met indeed.
She takes him on a journey across Moladion with her words, but it is he who truly paints the picture – for her, too. He gazes out into each direction for quite some time, tempting her to linger in between words as well. She continues nonetheless, but she wonders what it is he sees when he looks out over each point of the compass. To her, the mountains are home, but a home she cannot feel one with; the riverside is a place of challenge, both the barrier between comfort and discomfort, and home to the ghosts of the star-woman and the bear who had gouged her. When she looks at Arkin though, she sees none of that. She sees simply a man who gazes out with his own thoughts and feelings at a blank slate of a land, a land where he can create new stories and tell his own. She blushes, a warm flush beneath creeping up her face. Oh, it must surely be wrong to envy a wolf for their foreignness and placelessness.
She silently thanks her mother and father, her siblings too, for surely, they were the ones to bring some bird or breeze into the world to bring Arkin back from his thoughts. By extension, he brings her back from her own. "Mother used to say that the waves would speak if you listened closely enough,” she mused after a moment, having taken a short while to find her voice, "but if you are from a place called Moon, than the swim must have been too long even for the waves to keep up conversation.” She gave him a small grin, pleased with herself for having been able to lightly jest with him despite the pang she had felt over his attempts of keeping the comments lighthearted. Did he feel that he needed to do so? When wolves did that, Sila knew it was often to hide from their pain, or to hide it from themselves. "Let’s go to the spring, Arkin. I think I could do with some fresh water, too.”
With that, she gives him a small bow but doesn’t wait before she begins to jog onward. Her eyes watch him carefully though despite their passiveness; she watches for a limp or any hitch in his step, or any strange breathing, dragging paws. She watches closely for the pain she believes he is trying to hide, though she doesn’t think of what she might do if she does see it. In any case, the journey will be quick enough, and perhaps getting him away from the smell of the salt and sea will help. She leads him north, keeping her paws at a sensible speed despite her usual quickness (always in a rush despite herself!); she can smell the water becoming cleaner though, her nose lifting and giving the smallest of twitches as they near the first large curve of the river. She cannot say whether she’ll take him right to the springs or just near enough for the water to be wholly fresh and new – after all, the spring is nestled within the lap of Spirane, and she feels her fur become static as the mountains grow closer and closer.
"An island called Moon, you say? I’ve not heard of such a place before, though many wolves come from the North and West – not so much, say, the south as you did.” She raises a brow and grins, glad to have managed to speak. The words, she thinks, do quite a bit to chase away the anxious mice that makes their nests in her chest and stomach, flittering about with little regard for her. She slows, motioning forward over a small hump where grass meets stone and slope; when they reach the top, she grins down at the water. They stand not at the very origin of the river, sure, but they stand near enough. The water is smooth and graceful, clear enough so that the rocks below are visible entirely, fading into obscurity as the water deepens in its center. The river’s curve is graceful, the water slowed by reeds and stones rising throughout, and cool enough to feel it as she gently finds her way down the slope.
"This river was not always here. Years ago, something came from the sky and with it, everything changed. This used to be a swamp, they say,” she said simply as she dips a paw into the water, testing it before grinning at Arkin and giving her tail a quick wave of approval – it was good water, to be sure! "It’s sad, I think, but it gave us this water and all the things that grow along it now. Here – why don’t you relax in it for a bit?” After all, she can’t help but want to learn more about this Moon place and how he came to be on the southernmost shores of Moladion of all places. And besides, she welcomes the distraction and relaxation herself, finding a plush area of reeds and grass to stretch out beneath the sun on.