She followed behind Rhydian. In silence, her stern gaze cast over the foreign scenery with pursed lips. The snow stretched beyond her vision to the northwest, yet as they walked east, it grew sparser—presumably protection from the canopy, where the forest sprung forth. Faeline hardly bothered to inspect details of the earth that unraveled at her feet—but even she could see that this was different.

'None of them bear the territory markers of Varathen, that's for certain.' She was torn out of her thoughts, her brows raising slightly as she turned to look at the sire. Mh, she hummed, casting her own silvered gaze over the tree's bark, seeing the untouched skin of the trees' daunting forms. 'Are we in neutral territory, you think?' The smell of wolves had long ebbed away. Faeline coiled her tail over her hips. I think, perhaps. She remarked softly. The trees here were different. Their trunks were broader, and... even with eyes squinted, Faeline was unsure if they were of the same species.

Slender body weaved between trees like a gust of wind. She slipped into the forest, ears held forward with a vigilant smolder. I think... she trailed off for a moment—she thought a lot of things. She thought this was all fucking insane. Why did they get transported into some strange world like this? Why was she back here again? Her lips thinned. ...I think we aren't where we were before, Rhydian, she began, I think we won't find Varathen here. Nor anywhere. Her words were left cryptic, lest she said something that would force his panic into a worsened state.

Against the gnarling roots of a tree, she placed her haunches upon the frozen soil and placed her tail upon her front paws. We should rest, correction, he should rest. Faeline felt no fatigue, rather, the opposite—she wanted to survey every corner of this odd planet they'd found themselves in. But she could see in the man's wearied gaze that such a notion was unthinkable. For the time being, Faeline would sedate her wanderlust—it could be aroused later, when it was more appropriate.

You look exhausted, dear, she sighed, come here, let me take care of your coat. Matted and ensnared with bits and pieces of foliage, the sight bothered Faeline to no end. Just like Finn, he was, uncaring of the unkempt state of his coat, far too occupied with separate trivialities.

She leaned her head forward and gingerly tugged away the twigs and burrs from his tresses, lapping her tongue over spikes of unruly fur to smooth his pelt down.