Whitebark Stream the less of it I need the more I get

she blinks at the name he throws her way, said with a self-assured smoothness that almost disguises the difficulty of it. "tirma—tirmiraskam," she tries, sheepish grin curving her muzzle at her obvious failure. his story is not all that different from her own, really; she'd had enough incidents to know the doubt, aimlessness, that comes often as a result. 

he asks her a question she's been ruminating on, then, and she has to gather her thoughts only a moment before answering. "a fresh start, for one—my blood-family has endured great loss, and for them and any others that come here, I want to create a new beginning. a family, too; the wolves of morningside were as much my family as my father and his children; I will seek to recreate that trust and closeness here." a pause, then, and she reveals to him what she had to Valette. "and I want to reclaim who I once was; a leader, a mother." she is jolted slightly when her paw catches on a root; she hooks it further around and tugs until the narrow thing snaps. as he had, she focuses on the simple task for a moment, refocusing her attention from the past. 

"what do you want to do, art — who do you want to be?" she asks. an old friend had asked her something similar, once, when she'd been very young, and she remembers her answer still. it it okay, not to know? she will not fault him if he does not, but is interested to know what makes up the male at her side; his goals, dreams and all such things beside.