Bearclaw Valley Your name on my lips, tongue tied

She seems shy and scared, not bearing to look Pandora in the eyes for longer than half a second. She wonders what has befallen this girl to act such a way, but here in this pack it could be anything. By the looks of it she may just be a prisoner. Judging by the seclusion and inability to get out of the trench she finds herself in. Then the question begs itself: what if Pandora helped her out? Oh surely she’d be dead woman herself then. Could this little girl be trusted out on a hunt with the cunning white witch? Perhaps not, but still, she entertains the thought in her mind anyway. After all this girl is already bigger than her and maybe she got some spunk too. Pandora doesn’t fight.

Eventually though, she’s getting a name out of her and more answers too. She’s cold and hungry. How sad is that. Though Pandora does lack most empathy, she feels a touch for her. And she even asks for Pandora’s name as well, how very brave of her.

So Pandora would smile down to her. “Well, I’m Pandora.” She hums then. “And you’re Indra, who is cold and hungry. So tell me, what are you doing down there? And can you be trusted out on a hunt with me? I could try and help you out…” She purrs the idea, but her tone is littered with what ifs. If she does try and help her out (if she even can) can she trust her not to run?