Bearclaw Valley rotting oranges

A question concerning the vessel of her soul, and her uncanny similarly to the ursine spirit. There was a thoughtful, still pause, then the Skeptic gave her answer.

"They molded my kind... flesh, skin and bones... to mime what they could not tame. The bear marks me, but I lack it's spirit. Your cult has brought me closer to it than the misguided attempts to shape me ever did."

She shook what light snow had covered her fur.

"I am daughter to a thick bloodline, but strangely, mine kin and yours are cousins, if the rumours of healthy children borne of our unions are true."