Bearclaw Valley sang et vin pour les rois

She couldn't help but wonder what the beginnings of Ursus had been like, when it was only three of them than the robust numbers that they boasted now. She didn't particularly feel the necessity to try either—she was too well acquainted with what it meant to be apart of something small in numbers, a thought that had been best left to fizzle out when it had outlived its usefulness.

Ursus and Merrick had only begun to pave the way for her to think further in advance, beyond the premise of a meal of some sense of safety. It would be a slow road to venture, but she wanted to take it to as well as it seemed to, as well as any other in their midst had.

"They must think highly of you then," she said with a faint smile. "And you must share the pride they have in seeing this come together. I've never been apart of anything like this before, such a mismatched group and all. I like it." She shared some of that pride too, even if she may not have been entirely welcome to it. It was an infectious feeling, frittered away from the collective high of seeing them altogether and having rallied to a common cause.