King Elk Forest Who is the lamb and who is the knife.

If it were possible for a wolf to pale, that was what Zephrine would be doing. The colors that sat so vibrantly upon her body would strip of their lustre. Her eyes would go black - or just dead, sunken in to her already thin face. The positions offered were both variations on the limelight; the last thing she wanted was the attention of others. She felt a breath hitch in her throat and swallowed it, trying not to let the gasp permeate the air. Choking down her knee-jerk reaction.

The woman welcomed her, at any rate. She was free to choose a vocation that suited her better. Zephrine nodded, her smile looked well practiced. There was little warmth to her gaze.

"Thank you. I'll... I'll get settled, then." She had anticipated more of a process, but in the end she was glad this went smoothly. Perhaps she could start over here with the rest of them. Some of the same prejudices would remain, of course, but the old Zephrine did not have to survive the fire.

A silent farewell passed between herself and the comely stranger. Asking after the stranger's name or rank did not occur to the girl until she was a few body-lengths beyond the border, and by then the forest had swallowed her up.