Bearclaw Valley don't deny what you feel, open up your mind

Her answer steals a smile from Poet's tired mouth. Something in between, something she can relate to. That the woman already knows her name is unexpected but she plays it off with a raised eyebrow. "I am," the ex-Priestess agrees, "it is a pleasure to meet you too, Blondine."

Gracefully she takes a seat, her lavender tucked securely under paw. "Where might you have learned my name?" She asks, voice mild. They are pack mates and so it is not unreasonable that Blondine might have heard it somewhere, but nonetheless names can be powerful things. Or hers, at least, when rendered in full, though that is to remained guarded now that she has her sense about her.