Moonspear m'lady is vicious

"Hydra," the appearence of the nightly crown did not go unnoticed, as she heard and took whiff of the nearby moonspearian. Desdemona dipped her head in a respectful bow, before drawing upwards to respond toward the question, "I am doing well." Which was the truth, she did not have complaints, nor' issues to come afoot. Her routine was quick to take within place by already following the paths of their borders, and inbetween to the more hide away holes, common for the scavanger wolves who need a den, or the other vexing beings that place themselves in marked lands. The dusk maiden was determined to keep it clean.

She had grown, in a bit. Alya made her realize how odd her speech had been, and adjust as so. She was so used to the savagely Alpha's, who cared little to the loyalty one will place, and simply did as they pleased. The tyrannical rulers she still nawed at the back of her head, feeling the frigidness of the constant need of approval, and the need for a respectful tone. She however, was getting there, "I feel of rust, however," she admitted. Her stamina was at the peak, for her constant on the move nature, but her skills.. Had fallen. 

She desired to hone them once more, but hesitated if she were to ask the Alpha for a taste of what Moonspear has to offer.