The first of the snows had fallen, but only just lightly so, a pale dusting that caught in the light breezes that managed to cut through the stone lining that stood tall above them and drifting casually about her golden ankles as the Lady took long, assured strides up the familiar winding path. They had crossed through the hidden segment at the foot of the peak some while ago and she could see the first glimpses of her and Ulrik’s proud sentinel and his partially completed brother in the distance over the jagged mouth of the entrance to the Basin, and she glances at her newest find with a smile lighting her features, a warning that the temporary silence that had lapsed over her now that there were no landmarks to point out or herds to name along the way was to be broken.

"It’s just ahead," she says, the pride for what is to come evident in the bright gleam of her golden gaze and the way her steps take on an added grace and enthusiasm, "do not fear the bronze guardians. They are quite safe so long as there are no threats against us." The thought of the young wolves who had come for their foals makes her smile in sadistic memory of the machine dancing among the warriors and the oblique Lord; though it hadn’t stuck any blows upon the assaulting beasts, it had been a ferocious sight, one she had missed in her worry for the children – her own, most of all.

As if her thoughts have summoned him, his dark frame appears in the gap of the stone when they are a few feet from it, having come from somewhere around the lake if the way he smells is of any guess. She smiles fondly at her son as he smiles coolly in greeting to his dam, watching for the notice and reaction to the tigress behind her on his young face.

It does not take long. His golden eyes broaden in near hysterical excitement that he binds behind resolve, managing, despite his youthful exuberance, to not dart forward, pace endlessly, or spew questions. But his flesh trembles with restrained interest in the creature that approaches (for it is a predator, but one that does not seem to be looking at his mother like food – more as if she has come to stay here) and his mind works away in boundless directions at the possible reasons as to why he is seeing what he is seeing.

Her lessons have seeped deep into him; he disguises his curiosity as best as he can behind cordial introductions and gentlemanly behavior. "Welcome home, momma, and welcome to you, miss," his little head bobs in greeting, the small stub of his gold toned horn catching the light in the same stunning way her own does, "I’m Rikyn, son of the Engineer. What’s your name?"

His smile is friendlier towards the cat than his dam, and she hopes within herself that the feline does not notice the mild agitation her son is experiencing towards her at this moment. Ever since the herd had taken notice of his sister, he had grown steadily more cold to her over time, no matter how slight the changes may have been.

Perhaps it was time to lend him to his father; Ulrik always had such a precise and dignified way of explaining everything away. Surely he could get it through the boy’s head that his mother was only trying to help him, and was not the wicked witch he thought her to be. "Come, Rikyn, let us walk while we talk," she sweetly says as she walks past him and into the threshold of the mountain valley, stepping aside as she always does for the tiger to enter and get a full view of the place she has been led to, her son slipping quietly to her right to oblige his dam's need for order.