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For once, her expression did not give away where her thoughts went as he spoke to her, though her ear twitched. She was reminded of her puppyhood, when she was learning to become a wolf, albeit a domesticated one. She did not fit in with her family, the cats, and so started to adapt to live among them. It was perhaps one of the only wolfish instincts she possessed, that of the social creature, the need to be in a pack. Even if it were a cat pack.

They mocked her, laughed at her attempts to do what they do, and even though she had learned many of their behaviors, committed them to habit even, she was still not but a clumsy kitten to them, and so she was named. Now, among her own kind, she finds herself in the same situation, of having to re-learn her way of life, her way of being, having to adapt to fit in. It was almost funny to her, were she not so stressed by the idea.

He touches her cheek, and she is distracted from her thoughts. She rumbles at him in a sort of purr. "I will go find him," she said with enthusiasm, if not slightly forced enthusiasm. But first, she scoops up the chipmunk he had offered to her, casting him a long blink and then stepping to rub her boy against his before she takes her leave.