She had a youth he envied and could not remember possessing himself; Jefferson remembered back to barely a year or so before, and thus the experiences of childhood he'd had as Maluki -- with Ceres, Laruku, everyone -- were gone. Had he lacked the scars he did or the handicap of a useless eye and arm, he might have been able to keep up with a pup like Skylar in a race or a hunt, but nowadays he took the position of the silent overseer, the quiet guardian with the fiery temper. Skylar and Tyrone had never been afraid of him, somehow; they'd had a good father who taught them well. Skylar reminded him of Iskata, though, and the thought of the old, lost woman almost erased his once-in-a-blue-moon smile.
She laughed and spun around, a woman in contrast from the little girl she'd been in his sight beforehand. She'd grown so much since the days when she'd taken care of her sightless grandmother in the barn or overheard the conversations between he and Iskata as such; she was no longer the innocent, defenseless little thing he'd come to know. Jefferson was pleased to know it: if anything, Skylar and Tyrone had been like a niece and nephew to him, in substitution for children of his own. Of course, that had changed, but that needn't be mentioned. "A little exotic, maybe," he laughed, shaking his head. Her hair was dyed pink and she was covered in piercings and fashion: her father's girl, no doubt. "Are you just visiting, or are you planning to stay?" He guessed that she had come to check in on her father and the pack, perhaps, but had bigger and better things to accomplish in the end.