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The thing she truly liked about Nayati, Aurèle realized, was that he shared many of the characteristics she viewed as worthwhile. He was deliberate in his actions, patient, skilled in those things he knew well. He was never jumpy or wordy, and did not find need to make himself greater then he was. It was a shame she had never been able to find someone like him before—but her duty had been met, and she had sired her immortality through Anatole. His father would live on too, but his father had been immortal long before that. She did not know that the boy had a half-sister living in the north. Perhaps she never would.
His question caught her off guard and she blinked owlishly. Then her eyes sharpened and her mind kicked back, running through the buildings she so rarely spent time in. “We could take it and preserve most of the meat. Our good hunting won’t last long once winter comes,” she added darkly. Last winter had been terrible. “Though I wouldn’t mind sharing it now to thank you,” she added, and an amused twinkle came into her eyes. Nayati was as equally skilled as she was, so she doubted he needed the aid, but the gesture was made none the less.