Blackfeather Woods ash and dust

Her gaze does not find the blankness she expects, instead a fiery face she cannot quite put a name too appears. Her lobes flick back, wary, she feels that this one is threatening, somehow. She senses, his gait is arrogant and self-assured, something that seems dangerous in this place. However, his reaction at Cyron is so unexpected that she scoffs, the tension that presses down on her lightning. 

"It's a child. Surely you're not that dull?"  The remark is made in a flatter, weaker tone than intended, the girl alternating between rousing fire, fear and exhaustion. Replying with little regard for the pup; she has to admit he does seem a little dull. "Vaati believes that children constitute as gifts." Her voice holds a tint of sarcasm as she regards the boy, tail shifting behind her uneasily. Suddenly feeling unsettled, she stands, her protectiveness over the child obvious as she regards him, gaining strength from the interaction. Yet she is hardly threatening, dull and lackluster pelt coupled with thin weakness. She can do little to truly protect the child, and she is aware of it.