To say integrating in to a whole new life was hard was but a far cry for the ex-princess. Elettra had been willing to let the Attaya child in to her ranks, and as privileged as Cinder might have believed herself, she did know that in these ranks, she was no princess, and while she certainly would pick her battles, enraging the Archer matriarch was certainly not something she was willing to do.

So, the inky Attaya kept mostly to herself. Day by day she found the strength to further maintain herself -- the disheveled fur was now well groomed once more, and her thinning body was becoming lissome once more -- streamlined in her agility, and fed now that she held a spot in perhaps one of the most prominent packs of Relic Lore.

She stuck mostly to Quil's side, who's presence was hard to come by with each passing day. She spoke little.. barely a ghost of her old self. Now, she stood, her gleaming yellow eyes scrutinizing the image that stared back at her in a shall and freezing puddle. Her face was barren of emotion -- her cheekbones hollow, and her angles sharp. She still had mending to go, but at best, she would one day be the pristine image of beauty that she believed herself to be. Mirror, mirror, she rasped darkly to herself, a rather becoming grin surpassing the hollowness of her glare as she sidestepped the puddle, giving her pelt a quick shake.

It was time to move forward once more, and if she had to rise within these ranks, she would do so. Cinder Attaya was no push over by the world -- of that, she believed, she had proved by her simple survival of what life had already thrown her way.