Silverlight Terrace it has wealth and gold, but it's fragile and old

the crying stifles and ceases. ears twitch in pressing concern as atla considers that she's imagined it. but no. she couldn't have. her imagination wasn't that good. she considers poking around, trying to find who'd been crying but in lieu of not wanting to be attacked atla resists that particular temptation. ai nou yu laksen. atla attempts to soothe, voice taking a soft voice ...as she did when speaking with salem's young cubs. what was that in common again?

i not you hurt. atla attempts, feeling the common roll off her tongue clumsily; broken as it always was. in the effort to assure whomever was crying that she wasn't a threat she tries to keep her own frustration at her internal struggles at bay. ai atla. she offers her name to the shadows, golden gaze watching them to see if anyone would appear.