Iris had spent the entire day making the room immaculate. It was so nice… there weren’t any eyes on her, she felt no hands on her body, and for the first time in ages she felt she could forget where she was if only for a moment. She let her mind wander as she straightened the bed, arranged her “tenants’ “ possessions neatly while taking great care to avoid anything that seemed to have even the slightest sentimental value. She couldn’t remember the last time she could even hum to herself, let alone sing quietly, but she did it for hours on end. It was perhaps the most freeing thing she could find for herself and it always had been. When she was still living with her family in Gaira, the entire tribe would spend at least one night every week gathered around together, telling stories or singing or dancing… They laughed and simply enjoyed life. She could hardly remember it anymore; what it felt like to live in a moment of such naïveté and excitement. However, the young girl found at least some contentedness here, in this room.

After the two warriors left the room that morning, Iris found herself first lying on the bedding which Shar used the night prior. It still had his figure imprinted on it slightly, like a nest, and it was warm as could be. She took a nap… a nap! If she’d been told two days ago that she would be able to take a leisurely nap, she’d have likely laughed in such a person’s face. Then she folded the bedding, set it aside neatly, and began her round about the room, starting in one corner and working her way gradually throughout. Not a speck of dust was left out. She was softly humming [I]’Beneath the Gairan Moors’[/I] when the door slammed open. Had the day already passed? The small vixen flinched and lowered her ears slightly in dismay; how pleasant it had been. Perhaps it was merely Lykos coming through the door in exhaustion. But alas, ‘twas the tigress. Iris delicately placed the fresh flowers inside the watered vase, one at a time, before taking a drag of their aroma, a contented sigh escaping her muzzle.

It was now that the tigress addressed her, a blade in hand. The fox stared at her in perplexion, tilting her head, “My apologies, ma’am. I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you,” She replied concisely, following her protocol to the very tee as she walked toward Ciscera, meeting her gaze with surprisingly formidable conviction. The blade fazed her little – she’d faced worse and wished only now that they had actually taken her life. “I understand that you do not like me, Madame Ciscera,” She said, dropping the tigress’ real name with absolute certainty. “But… you do not know me…” The girl pointed out, “If you’re so adamant in not liking somebody, you should find a reason why, at least, that is not quite so circumstantial. It’s regrettable, your situation, but…” The girl gently pressed the back of her hand to the blade and guided it away from her nonthreateningly. It was far from an offensive move, merely one of standing nearer to Ciscera. “You’re strong, stronger than you know…” She said sincerely, “You’ve faced a great many things in your young life – you’ve much to offer any cub or kit or pup looking for a story or needing protection… But you don’t love… You don’t care – when was the last time you felt anything but apathy or hatred for another?”

Iris felt the aggression of the tigress and almost dared her to reach out – dared her to even think of touching her.