Fox's Glade mellon collie and the infinite sadness

@Kiran set for the 9th

Her limbs turn more wooden with each step, sticking to the ground as if the slender girl had been born from the bough of some great tree rather than from a womb, and now seeks to cast her own roots into the earth. Truthfully, she might prefer such an end if she knew her true fate. Yet those are not the thoughts that plague her steps. It is the scent of Easthollow that brings heaviness to her limbs, the lingering memory of a silver boy with infuriatingly green eyes. Like his mother. Like her mother. She drops Stanley abruptly, agitated by the burden. The boy isn't here, and neither is their mother — and they won't come, surely, unless she calls. But she won't.
But... why is she here, then?

She had been hunting farther than usual today and the female was hoping for something slightly bigger than field mice. Luckily after sniffing at a rabbit hole she found that it was still inside and began digging at it hoping to drive it out the other side. With success the animal sprinted out the other side of the burrow and she along after it. Hot on its tail Kiran leaped upon the animal and crushed its neck with her jaws and began to pull the meat off; starving.

The rabbit sprints into view only moments before the woman comes leaping after it, finishing the kill quickly. The scent of blood overwhelms her for a moment; it has been far too long since her last meal. But she is no thief, so she resists the urging of deep-rooted instincts to stride forward and take what she wants. Instead, she approaches casually, noting belatedly the scent of Easthollow clinging to the stranger. Her jaw tightens, but she greets the pale wolf politely. Good catch, She tells her, struggling to keep a note of longing from entering her tone. You're from Easthollow?

It was successful and she could taste the rabbits blood flood her mouth and this time she noted the stranger and turned her head towards them setting down her prey only to speak. "yes I am, you are?" She asked simply.

The woman's answer is brief, and not as welcoming as Keen might have liked. Her teeth clench together painfully, but she manages to part them long enough to give her own answer. I'm Keen. Valette is my mother, She explains, wondering if the association will draw something a bit more polite from the stranger. But part of her doesn't really care, truthfully; she has already decided that this woman, whoever she is, is rude — and certainly not worthy of walking among her family as one of their own. The thought reminds her of another wolf, equally unworthy yet there, infuriatingly, while she remains an outsider. She wonders, suddenly, if this stranger is close to that wolf. It would be fitting. Do you know Greyback?

She introduced herself as her alphas daughter and her eyes lit up a bit. "Oh! I apologize, I'm Kiran and I know your mother. She is a kind woman and good leader." She said simply with a newfound smile. "I've met him yes." She said simply.

She nods, somewhat placated by the response that follows — but it isn't quite enough to change her opinion just yet. What do you think about him? She asks, shifting slightly and taking a step closer, just barely outside of the stranger's personal space. The woman had offered a name, she realizes, but she'd missed it. It isn't important anyway, though; what is important now is what the other says next.

She had a lot of questions and the female came closer making Kiran a bit uncomfortable. "We've only spoke a few times other than that I don't know much. He's nice I suppose." Not wanting time speak anymore she took a small step back.

She can see the woman's discomfort, and her cheeks heat with embarrassment. But before she can stammer out an apology and take a step back, the pale wolf's words register. He's nice, I suppose. It sounds so simple, so... dismissive. She almost can't believe it. The man who had stolen the love of her mother and siblings, who had taken for himself the life Stark had been meant to have, and in the process ruined hers — reduced to a simple kind sentence. A pleasantry. He's not nice, She snaps, taking it for ignorance despite how much it feels like an insult. The hair along her spine bristles as she speaks. He's — he's a thief and a fraud. He's not nice. Take it back.

The female takes a few steps back and bared her fangs at the female. Kiran knew she wasn't a skilled fighter and started to fear the outcome of this confrontation. Although she braced herself for the worst.