Blackfoot Forest all gods dispense suffering without reason

'Dangerous might just be exactly what you need,' he'd rasped. She considered it as she brushed past him with a soft hum, lost in thought for a moment. All things considered, she supposed that danger was expected to come from wolves built as he, as Greyback had been; especially with that... wolf-eater... hunting her, of his own lecherous design. All the while, she'd whirled about and made her way back towards her new-founded guardian, a bit of a hush-now prowl in her frame.

Rather than solemn, her eyes creased like crescent moons as she confided, "Da, enchanterul meu. I believe that danger is exactly what I need. Not to say that I haven't gotten out of it myself," she cocked her head at him, bringing focus to her scars, "but it would be a reprieve to not be so alone in such hateful situations."

"After all," Aure sniffed dismissively, playing at innocence not that she needed to while studying the glimmering hinters around them, "there is a wolf-eater who hunts for me. Now, I don't mind a bit of madness, but he is of the ilk that is... O, how to put this lightly? Demented." Her words were not light in the most generous sense. There was an impish glint in her eyes, breaking through her reserved demeanor, as she then told him of how this creature dubbed Rakk had driven her into Easthollow's lands; where, then, he'd been cast out by the jarl, Greyback.

Up until today, she'd sought sanctuary with amongst them for nigh on a month. When she was certain - hopeful - that Rakk had clambered far into the wilderness, she'd taken her leave southward and had happened upon these hinters. "Now, I plan to conquer this ridge," nodding at the great spires above them, "and somehow get to ze shores again." Her velvety muzzle twitched - it may have been aversion of the sea, if Wintersbane squinted.