The mind of the beast wanted to focus on one thing, and one thing alone, but such a want was too far out of reach to be realistic. She couldn't have a mind focused solely on catching prey, but one split into counterproductive thoughts. Her eyes scanned the ground hoping the earthy terrain would distract her from thoughts of grey, but it was all she saw. Unknowingly the Nomad whined in distress, her nose sniffing at the ground in vain, Her sharpened sense now dulled to the scent of fodder. It was as if it were rebelling, keeping her from seeking out anything to hunt til she reconciled with what ailed her. But she refused still, damning herself and her senses for being compromised like this. She about struck the ground in frustration but instead swept aside fallen leaves from her path under the pretense of moving the flora to gain a better scent on the trail.
Thankfully the words of her companion were enough to distract her. She raised her muzzle to meet his gaze, a bit of soil clinging to her nose from scrounging over the earth. Her ears perked forward attentively. Her task momentarily forgotten. "There is no path," she began to explain. "A Nomad has no destination, truly. Their path is never ending, or so our Shepards would say. The reason I left the Nomads was because they had fallen into routine, taking the same courses over and over again and claiming it was new, but it was only for the young born into our family. For those that walked the Endless Path for generations, there was nothing strange or new about it.
"However,"