[/html]She listened to the hoofbeats for minutes, dreading their arrival. Myrika had taken Cahal when she'd departed earlier that afternoon, but they had gone in the opposite direction, and she did not have to turn to look at the vague silhouette on the darkening horizon to know that it was not her sister. In time, a large white mare bearing a dark coyote rider approached the corral. At this new arrival, Soir lifted her head and watched as Eira and her child greeted them; the palomino did not move though, and after a while, returned to her hay.
Cassandra, meanwhile, continued to stare forward a while even as the stranger started towards her. The pallid woman would have liked to avoid her sister's clanmates during her time there, but she would not ask for such priviledges. And so it was only inevitable. She glanced sideways at the male as he settled on the fence beside her, pale eyes narrow and wary, though she was careful to mask any overt signs of distaste and mistrust. Even before she noticed the star branded on his shoulder, she knew it was a Lykoi. He reminded her of the old woman, and of Myrika, too, though more distantly.
Though she assumed it was a greeting of sorts, his words meant nothing to her. "Que voulez-vous?" she responded automatically, the barest hint of irritation leaking through her smooth, slurred words. She disliked being reminded of the many things she did not understand; it was only natural that she respond in words she could only hoped baffled him in turn. Though she was acutely aware, too, that her French remained accented and disjointed at times, clear signs that she had not been born speaking the words. She would kill him if he knew them better than she.
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