The girl who had found her was unlike the others and yet, something about her was familiar. When Beltane looked towards her, she had been met with haunting, ghostly eyes and rich, earthy brown. Beltane watched her with a passive face, her eyes slow and drifting as they moved across the girl. Yes, there was something familiar there: an energy, an essence, perhaps. Beltane thought briefly of the Darkbringer, her skin prickling with the memory of his energy, but she quickly dismissed him back to the recesses of her mind. He was not, after all, a complete match. Familiar, but different enough not to call any single wolf to thought for more than a fleeting moment. It intrigued Beltane, as one might have come to expect. All peculiar things were of interest to the peculiar woman.
Menhket spoke but Beltane did not respond immediately. Instead, her head jerked to a tilt, and her lips peeled back into an amused grin for the briefest moment. Beltane had become accustomed to the art of changing one's voice; she had been spoken to by enough leaders and curious wolves alike to recognize when somebody had altered a part of themself in an effort to hide it. She wondered what the girl wanted to hide, but she did not wonder enough to query it. Let them hide, she figured. It was of no consequence to her.
She turned back to the water then, where the blood red leaf continued to float. It danced in the water, spinning slowly before being pulled any which way by the current. Beltane's eyes followed it closely, drifting between it and Menhket, a low hm of thought below her breath.