Samus had always been bold.
Had. What a word! Such a small word and yet the very thought of it made her insides turn to water. Samus
had always been bold though, and Sila can’t help but try to channel some part of her as she wades through the waters of ‘getting to know’ another. Her father had been so observant that the word itself fell short of describing him – she tries to channel that too. She notices the way Arkin moves; he is alert, yet it does not seem to be of the suspicious kind. She wonders if he’s looking for something more than just the water as she watches him rise on his toes once again. Maybe she ought to begin channeling that too.
Born in a valley, and a valley named for the river at that. She grins, small and wane, as she watches the water move. Harsher than their own river? She thinks of it, and what it might mean for Arkin. Was the river anything like the wolves that lived by it, or the land it ran through? She frowns slightly as she watches his face again. Truly, it is difficult for her to imagine him coming from a place of harsh wolves or harsh lands alike.
"Arkin of Dredic Valley on the Island of Moon...” she muses, "it does conjure quite the image, I must admit.” But he was asking about her then and the mention of home makes her shy away for a moment, her ears flickering back as her eyes roam away and into the nothingness of thought. She returns with a sheepish grin, nodding to herself – she must be honest, to both herself and Arkin. It’s the least she can do.
"I’m...between homes, one could say. I’m of mountain blood, but I have been out here by myself for some time. My eyes roam to the forests,” she says, her grin moving from sheepish to kindly once more as she finds herself laughing ever so slightly at Arkin’s appearance. She lifts a paw to cover her muzzle before lowering it, her face feigning seriousness. From a matted, salty creature to a sopping wet wolf. It was quite the change, and seldom a graceful one for any wolf.
"Will you try to go back to your Island, Arkin?” She asks after a moment of silent watching, stretching a paw out into the war and flexing her toes. She frowns in thought, wondering the same for herself. Would she go back to the mountains again? For a visit, to find her sister’s children or her sisters – her brothers – themselves. For anything? "My father was clever beyond words; if he were still here, I’m sure he would know your island and know how to return you to it. But -" she grins in fond remembrance and amusement, "he would not have asked if you’d like to be returned. You’re lucky that I am more my mother’s blood – less river current and more...wading.” She can feel herself truly loosening up, the worry in her bones washing away into the water. If he doesn’t want to return, she wonders if he might carve out a life here in the wilds. She looks up in thought, her eyes scanning across the horizon as she considers it. Or would he wish to find a pack? Each land and each pack had their boons and curses, she thinks resting her eyes on Arkin with quiet evaluation. It’s all too easy to think he might do best in Taviora because it is where she seeks to find a place, after all.