Benji’s guarded responses pulls intrigue from her, enjoying her stiff expression and frame. It seems to have loosened her stress as she points out Citalá’s current lack of fish. A brow raises as Benji promises to share, and a competitive streak rises within her.

“Mm. Maybe you ask for my catch,” she teases, tail trailing behind her quick gait like tail feathers off bird in flight. “Your paws- may scare fish in water, yes.”

Citalá, which of the sea, has nothing to fear from the waters.

“Follow,” she beckons, eyes alight with a glimmer. Not too far stood the shores, a beach she had woken upon after Cisin spirited her away, landing in her a world so foreign. She would not dwell on it, and urged her thoughts elsewhere.

“You come from pack? Tribe, clan?”