The small woman steps into the sand with a look of delight on her face. She steps out as far as she feels comfortable, the water just gently brushing over the tips of her paws on occasion. Mr. MacConin doddles behind her, barking about the dreariness of this place. But Nainseadh can only hear the sound of the waves and the birds. Her toes wriggle in their place, examining the sand.
The beaches of home were rocky and far from the surface. More like cliffsides that Mr. MacConin kept her very far away from. Here she was in no such immediate danger, so she knew he wouldn't have the heart to stop her.

What color is the sand? She coos, her head turning in the last known location of her father.

The badger seems exasperated but, takes another glance around before answering her. "Black as the Earl of Hell's waistcoat!" He barks.

She smiles again, now in awe at the idea, though she would never be able to properly picture it. Even if she spent all day trying.

The pack had been a bit quiet as of late. Stella Maris finds herself especially noticing it with the scents passing through their coast. She supposes the Circle could use the opportunity to collect more members. To mark more wolves to that of their ranks, to please their goddess.

Stella Maris will always support the Scarlet Circle. She did upon death, she will on this life. What she will not do is blindly collect wolves for their cause - even ones standing on the heart of their territory. It truly is not trespassing quite yet. The group was still getting used to their new home - their new lives - but she still finds herself feeling stingy over it.

"You stand in the heart of the Scarlet Circle." She calls out to them, approaching slowly.

The waters truly can't be considered the heart of their home - but to Stella Maris, it is. She seems to find herself feeling safer around the coastline compared to the wariness of her Sisters. More for her, and the others who aren't so afraid.

She waits for a reaction.

Her head turns and her ears perk up, a bodily reaction that occurs much sooner than the badgers. His little black and white body finally turns in surprise and defense the moment the stranger speaks, all spikey and puffy and full of badger-blood.

Nain's smile fades to something of gentle surprise and a bit of concern. She tries to listen closely for a quickening of footsteps or sharpness of breath.

The two stand generally uneasy, both displaced strangers with only themselves. Though she opens her mouth, the badger is the first to speak up.

"Noo jist haud on thar biggun!" He barks, his body making small hops across the sand, trying to mark a line between the stranger and his little gal.

Nain's face looks to him, she wonders if the strange woman is very large or if Mr. MacConin is very silly. Relating to the rest of her life, she wishes to assume the latter.

Hello. The woman chirps, her face shining beyond the darkness of the beach and its dreary scene. She can hear Mr. MacConin shuffle slightly, his little paws filled with betrayal as he tosses a glare that she bears no witness to. He seems easily defeated by the gentle smile she so happily gives.