Nightingale couldn't feel bad for being nothing but honest with the other, but wouldn't go on until she went blue in the face about it. The wolf relented at last when the other mentioned she would tell her mother next time. Satisfied with this, Nightingale would harp no more on the subject. She even offered a smile, quite happy to hear this, very much so appeased. Gale was not in the habit of making demands, but when she did she felt it was never for much. That the youth agreed solidified this self-made opinion.



The others assurance didn't help her own feeling on the matter, but she had promised herself to let it go. The other was determined. Nightingale didn't think it worth touching anymore, but she could not help but think the other could be quite incorrect. Why, the youth going missing would be another added thing to her mind, and thus become a worry. The songbird was nothing if she was not honest, and while she knew she could press the other a bit more... there was a part of her that simply had no desire to.



I'm being selfish in keeping you with me, Nightingale wanted the other to know, and frowned, Perhaps I am not so good a friend to have. Was she? The three year old felt some measure of angst towards the question. Well, she had up and left the wolves who had cared for her without a goodbye. While, yes, she didn't think they'd let her go freely, they had still aided in her survival and she had known them (so they said, so she believed) all of her life! She (selfishly) followed her compulsion in feeling like something was missing, something she didn't even know, searching for something that might not even exist...



The onslaught of these thoughts poured in at her from every direction. The only thing to draw her out was the word hunt, to which Nightingale responded to with an eager look. It was just the word to make her come to; the only thing that could dominate her confusion and her self-remorse was her hunger, which felt like a living thing at present. It was dull inside her, but she did not want it to sharpen. A hunt... yes, that sounds good, she nodded her head, and sniffed the wind for telltale signs of prey.

Because I am thinking of my choice to keep you from your mother a little while longer, she smiled, though the expression did not reach her eyes. Yes, it was the others choice, too; a mutual decision made. But Nightingale paused, a scent in the wind... blood? Maybe, she decided, her voice faraway, maybe she was a good friend. Nightingale did not know. There was a lot, she was finding, she did not know. Not really. The scent distracted her, but Nightingale looked back to the other. Maybe you're right... Nightingale did not know the other well enough to tell her of how much she was not sure of. Nearly everything. Her mind had been lost.



But she was distracted by the scent. Saliva pooled at the edges of her lips, perhaps painting her in an unattractive light. Nightingale acknowledged this. I'm sorry, I just... d'you smell that? Nightingale turned her head, sniffing a little louder, her olfactory nerves working overtime. Nightingale turned and headed toward it. Her tail waved. The suggestion to hunt made her pause. She had said... but, well, surely the other might be eager for free food? Maybe not so eager as she herself. Perhaps a chat over leftovers? Her voice raised an octave, soprano in the query. I'm a lone wolf; we need to conserve our energy... free food would be foolish of me to pass up. Fatal, even, came her deadpan voice, and then she looked to the other. Would she still want to hang out? Be friends?

Inna's justifications tuckered out even the idea of refuting the thought any longer. It wasn't a topic she wanted to stick to any longer, either, because it wouldn't do her any favors to dwell on it. As for the others words, Nightingale thought on it. She didn't voice the contrary, but she felt it. Hadn't she done just that, in leaving her friends of the Caldera without a word? And worse yet, that it felt... okay, to do that? But she bit her tongue. Her honesty was spent and it hadn't come cheap. That wasn't to say she would lie. Gale simply wouldn't tell her everything, as she so often felt compelled to do. Even now she felt that, but she swallowed the painful set of words and she felt amazed that her throat did not bleed for the sword she thrust in it.


Nightingale was more than happy at the others willingness to come with her, and there was no hiding the rapid beat of her tail. And better yet, she accepted her own situation. Nightingale was relieved at that. Why did she feel like she feared being antagonized...? It had never happened (her memories slammed on the steel gates, but to no avail).



Sweet! Nightingale squealed before trotting in the foods direction. Her eyes gleamed with a bright, eager light as she followed the scents trail... and there it was! Eaten already, she could see, but there was plenty of nutritional bits left that she could see even here. Nightingale sniffed heartily as she drew slowly near, but paused. A lynx brought this down, and her eyes perused the surroundings, her senses on high alert to see if it was still near.

The others query was responded to with a loud series of sniffs, first, and then Nightingale shook her head. This is its kill. It's been sitting here for some hours now. The winds have simply shifted that we were able to catch wind of it, Lucky, she thought. Nightingale had contended with a cougar at the Caldera, with the pack; she imagined that all felines were as feisty as the one they had fought. And there was no longing in her to find out the truth of that.


So she sidled next to the deceased thing and began to eat. It wasn't warm as a fresh kill would be, but it was satisfying for her to eat anything at all these days. Nightingale was a lean wolf as it was, so she fortunately didn't require too much to sustain her, but she had went without for long enough to require this meal now. So she ate freely, pausing long enough to realize her gusto might be a little unsettling to watch. She couldn't apologize for it, so she simply licked her chops and snrkd. Y'think I'm hungry? She joked, knowing the answer as obvious. The skin of the dead thing lingered atop her muzzle and Nightingale caught it with her tongue. My names Nightingale, by the way, she introduced, in realizing she had no idea the name of her companion.

Nightingale continued to scarf down the meal, noting that the other had taken her own portion to the side. At that, Nightingale slowed down a little. Her desperation might be unseemly... but, well, it was clear she was nothing if not honest. The question the other asked was answered midchew: Nrt trdy, and after she swallowed, she translated: Not today. She panted from the effort of her gluttonous eating, though had more room in her stomach to spare she felt. Before she dove in for her final course, she explained, It had its fill. There'd be no reason for it to come back to the food for seconds. Unless this was its turf but... in coming here, there was no evidence of that, and then she dove back to her meal.


Inna, she caught with a mouthful of the dead thing. And when she had eaten enough to feel stuffed and sleepy by it, she withdrew at last. There was a great deal less of the creature than before... ah, well. The bloody remnants clung to her lips as she acknowledged the question. I guess that depends on your definition of 'a long time', Nightingale spoke with a little heh. Couple weeks now, though. Plenty long enough to be hungry and lonely both. Nightingale shrugged her shoulders to loosen them up and revealed, Pack life is better, by a long shot. But I needed to go my own way. If even for just a short time.