Shadowwyn Moor he beseeched him lay a hand upon fever-hot brow

If Poet found her childish, it was probably because Sif was, for all intents and purposes, still a child. She was of age, of course - ten months had passed since the time of her birth. But she'd spent so much time alone and so little time actually growing that she found herself a bit behind the times at present, even with her yearling status fast approaching. Probably, she would continue to be childish for the forseeable future. Perhaps she would never find a solid place in the ranks of adulthood.

"Ja," she agreed, bobbing her head at Poet's question. "He says... he will be nice, and take caare of me. But I can take care." She was not casting her lot in with Wardruna solely for protection. "Want friends," she explained. "Pack. Family."

She laid down across from Poet and stretched her paws out toward the older woman in a childish, entreating gesture. "Are you family?" she asked, tail whisking hopefully behind her.