Blackfeather Woods nyctophilia

Another materialized at Maegi's hocks, a creature of mixed heritage that drew Istoira's gaze but for a moment - though it was carefully trained upon the point of Jakoul's shoulder and it did not dare seek her eyes. 

Still, she does not miss the posture.

The girl who was once Keiedia remains stolid, unmoving as her gaze once more drops to the earth. Yet, inwardly, a stab of irritation made itself known - alongside, most surprisingly, dissapointment.  

Yes, yes, she was a stranger and she had already received the message loud and clear that she was not entirely welcome from the one Maegi had named Mou. Was such a display really necessary, especially in the face of her freely offered submission? 

Whatever. At least Maegi seemed amiable.

"A pleasure, Maegi Melonii," the firewood pattered with a bow of her onyx skull, focusing her attentions upon the Nona. The other had not deemed it necessary to speak as of yet, her body language enough of a conversation for Istoira in any case. 

"Not long, I'm afraid," she was forced to admit with a rueful ducking of her crown, the faintest of wry grins. "She was the first I encountered within these lands and after defending her from that scoundrel," disgust wrinkled the scarred pitch of her delicate muzzle as she thought of Nikan, "I grew fond of her." 

"I figured I would join your ranks, give pack life another shot." She shrugged slightly, devoid of any forming opinion of the Woods' wolves in her mannerisms.