Blackfoot Forest striding, powerful, into the arms of death

praimfaya watches as he heeds her warning and is satisfied though her guard does not entirely lower. she does not fully recognize the pack scent he carries upon his pelage though there is something about it that strikes her as very vaguely familiar. she tucks it aside. it doesn't matter where he hails from ...only if he's seen thade. the missing boy is her mission and though she has her doubts about whether she will catch up to the boy that has literally turned into a mere myth as the time wound on she does as she is pleaded to ...because she owes mahler that. for accepting her back when he hadn't needed to.

as he speaks her expression is terse; contemplative. it wasn't a 'yes' but it wasn't necessarily a 'no' either. he speaks of more cubs in the valley and she wonders if thade could've found his way there. at this point, praimfaya is not ready to turn away any potential lead; anything was possible. he'd be about ...four months old now. he's called thade. she prods him eagerly for further information but deduces that if he won't — or perhaps can't — tell her anything more she'll just have to go to the valley herself.

at the mention of 'dangerous' she gives a sage nod to affirm that she understands ...and barely contains her snort; arrogant as it perhaps would've been. arrogant or not, the wanheda is hardly afraid of danger. do i look like i'm afraid of the dangerous? she inquires with a small, cloying smile.