Ravensblood Forest I was doing just fine before I met you.

When it became apparent that Constantine did not wish to show her sunshine and roses, her smile faltered. Concern glimmered in her pearly gold eyes, which lingered helplessly on the swarthy leader's dark features as he exhaled a sigh. Durnehviir emitted a soft whine and, flicking her tongue hesitantly over her upper lip, gingerly lifted her lovely crown to gingerly touch her muzzle to the downy fur of his cheek. He spoke of his past, a familiar sorrow in his tone that took her back to her own uncertain infancy, a reminder of her troubled beginning.

Constantine did not continue on the matter, and Durnehviir did not press. She knew very little of his background and hoped he might open up about it more as they got to know one another, though understood his reluctance. It had taken years of ignoring the inner turmoil before admitting that she was ready to remember her time in the Teekon. It was still a delicate topic, though she was learning to better manage her fragile emotion.

Constantine changed the subject, mentioning his intended trip to a Southern pack and asking if she'd crossed paths with another wolfess. She shook her head then, indicating she'd not yet met the female who'd apparently lost her memories and, more notably, was an "old friend" of Constantine. Something uncertain tightened within her breast as she considered his connection to this female might be stronger than the one he shared with her, a budding jealously that roused a new feeling of guilt.

Durnehviir lifted her gaze once more, seeking the warmth of his fiery eyes as he studied her for response. I'll follow you anywhere, she yearned to tell him, but instead she remained rooted. She did not know if the brute wished for her to accompany him on this trip - why else would he inform her of it? Curious, she canted her head slightly, champagne eyes questioning: "do you think that Moonspear will have the answers?"