She stepped in after him, peering curiously around his bulky form to the cavern beyond. The darkness, after a moment, became bearable—wolves were, after all, equipped with decent 'night vision,' so to speak, which was sure to make this escapade easier for the both of them. Puzzled, she responded rather honestly, <b style="color:#125d7c;">“No, honestly. I don't remember them being mentioned...” Wasn't it obvious she hadn't known? She had thought bears lived here and the caves seemed... empty. Annoyed by the lack of, well, anything, Junai cried out uncertainly, <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Hello?!” Nothing. Hmph. <b style="color:#125d7c;">“C'mon, we gotta keep going. There's gotta be something interesting here if nobody knows about it, right?”

At the mention of Indru, Junai couldn't help but snort. Indru had seemed ready to kill Weldering with the help of Ruiko—in Junai's mind, if she hadn't spoken up, he'd be Swift River chow right about now. And, as always, she felt the need to mention this fact. <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Him and Rui were gonna have a taaaalk with you; he thought you hurt me or somethin'. No worries, though, I told him that you were a wuss and couldn't law a paw on me in a million years!” She laughed to herself at that, apparently confident in her ability to hold her own against anyone and everyone she met. As for the matter of following him? <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Yeah right, loser! You were stalking me in the first place. What kinda creep are you, huh?” She snickered, though, and it was clear that her insults meant little—honestly, if she wasn't poking fun at strangers, she had little idea what to say to them. It was only out of luck that he was sticking with her through this cave system, though with his proclamation of naming the caves after himself, it would seem they might not stick to one another's side for much longer. Giving an audible snort, she exclaimed, <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Whatever. Does your family even live around here? I don't think so! So, in honor of the Tainn family, these will now be called Junai Caves!” Leave it to Junai of all people to take all the glory for herself.

If anything, the fact that she was willingly following was an improvement—though it seemed short-lived, for upon entering a high-ceilinged cavern with minute streams of fresh water running through it, the mood soured. Her words were thoughtlessly said, spoken without regard to the possible harm they may have caused due to the fact that Junai was busying herself with studying the intricate room they had stepped into. It seemed a central figure, with tunnels branching off in random directions like spider legs—she almost wandered down one, poking her nose thoughtfully into the darkness, when words—angry, vehement words—sounded. Junai turned to face him, blinking in the dim light, taking in his features with wide and uncomprehending eyes—what was his problem? She almost felt bad, but the retort of his words left her remembering and she found herself glaring right back at him, responding rather venomously, <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Not all of my family's alive either, in case you forgot the overwhelming stench of burnt wood from the southern wildwood.” The words conjured a pictured of gray in her mind—he was gray, too, she realized with growing frustration. The little reminders, she was slowly starting to realize, were the ones that were taking the biggest toll on her heart and mind. <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Can't they have some place else named after them? You're just stealing from the dead now!” Not that the Tainn's had ever truly owned such land, but... But he didn't even belong here, did he?! It was the fire, she deduced most childishly—the fire had taken away a good portion of her family and it had brought him and the others. In her rage, so naive it was, she forget their similarities, the similarities that had originally made her tolerate him; silly, she was so silly.

What was easily most aggravating about his words was that they were right. For as long as she had remembered, no one had cared to argue that Relic Lore belonged to her—the hidden streams and towering trees and minuscule berries and pretty flowers. There had been passers-by on occasion who had hardly cared to inform a little girl that she was wrong, wrong, wrong. It was her false belief that what was most precious to you should belong to you... It confused her that these strangers, these nobodies thought they had just as much right to this place as she did. What did they know about Relic Lore's charm? If she asked for ten facts on it, they'd probably give her five generic ones; she almost wanted to question him, to spit in his face, and then piss all over Relic Lore so she could honestly and certainly say it was hers. Instead, she snapped back, <b style="color:#125d7c;">“It was more ours than yours!” She was foolish, though, and she knew that well; her childish ideals of "mine is mine and yours is yours" hardly applied here. In fact, he was rather like Torla in his coaxing ways, trying to get her to be nicer, kinder—it almost depressed her further, though she didn't let this show. He was just a know-it-all, walking around all cultured and educated. Why couldn't he go elsewhere? Hadn't he lived somewhere else once? Before the stupid island that had burned? She couldn't remember, not at the moment. In fact, Junai could scarcely think, rational thought having stopped and all that remained was an incoherent but ever-present string of profanities and insults. She could not manage words, breathing heavily, appearing torn between launching herself at him and launching herself out of one of the many exits. She wanted to retort to his words, to keep up some good kind of argument, but nothing came. As prideful and arrogant as she was, Junai knew he was right. Damn it, he was right! As much as she hated the idea of change, the idea of neighbors (good or bad)... None of it was inherently wrong. It was all her, so childish and selfish; she would never be truly happy, not really. She both loved Relic Lore and wanted to explore the rest of the world; she both loved Swift River and wanted to be rid of the eternal tag of "incompetent little sister" she would forever hold there.

When he calmed, she looked away, scowling, wanting little more than to scream. He offered a suggestion, a name that was a mixture of both of their last names. She spared him a glance from the corner of her eye and asked sharply, <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Tainnsidy? What the hell is that supposed to be, some shitty way of courting me?” It was sarcasm at it's finest, Junai's fondness for humor ringing through despite her soured mood. <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Either way, it's... an okay name I guess.” Secretly, she liked it because all of her surname was in it, while only two-thirds of his (in regards to syllables) was in it. If anyone asked, she decided she would say she coined the portmanteau name, though she didn't feel the need to inform him of this in her current mood.

The comment of courting left her snorting, ears flicking backwards as though insulted. <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Are you callin' me ugly or something?” Her words were low, a peculiar mix between hurt and irritated. It hardly mattered if Weldering thought her pretty, in truth, though he hardly had a right to insult her—what sort of freak had eyes like his, huh?! Perhaps more did around the world, but they were an oddity to Junai, who was accustomed to the gold and orange eyes of her family; as with anywhere else, oddities were perfect components to any insult. Luckily, she kept her mouth (painfully) shut, trying to keep in mind that insults hardly equaled kindness. While he probably didn't know about her attempts to be more civil (ugh, even the word was a little gross!), she hoped he appreciated them. It wasn't easy, after all, and he wouldn't be graced with kindness from Junai Tainn if she didn't feel guilty for just essentially spitting on the memory of his deceased family. Oh yes, she was smooth.

<b style="color:#125d7c;">“Tainnsidy Tunnels,” she echoed, voice distant—distracted, for she was now inspecting the small stream, trying to detect any signs of life. There didn't seem to be any particularly large populations, perhaps because the streams were the child of rain water and that was hardly a dependable source of moisture. <b style="color:#125d7c;">“Well, uh... We found this place, now what do we do with it?” Tainnsidy Tunnels—the name spoke for itself, didn't it? It was theirs, wasn't it? She liked the idea of having a secret hide-out, somewhere only she knew about... Well, Weldering knew about it, too, but she could hardly imagine meeting up with him much anymore. After all, she didn't believe in coincidence, so the notion that they might accidentally (or purposefully, depending on if he was really a stalker as she liked pretend) meet up again struck her as ridiculous.