Mmm, just so. [There's something about being immediately understood, about not needing to wait for words to convey all your thoughts, all you want to express. Alia has never needed to articulate herself to those who can reach out and pluck her thoughts, her emotions right from her mind. She understands, she is understood. It's simple.

And Lauralae's mind is a dark, twisting, compelling place, not safe per se, but comfortable, enjoyable, a walk in a quiet forest full of safe places to hide. Alia doesn't pry the fingers of her mind into these -- her wolfling is allowed her secrets, her hidden things. Any wolf will store away it's treasures in it's den, will growl if you get too close.

So she lets them lay, leaning forward to press her mouth soft, sweet to Lauralae's, spontaneous and warm.] Yes, you most certainly shall. You will wear his blood as your badge of triumph, and it will be the sweetest you have ever tasted. If he should ever come here, wolfling, I shall bring him straight to you and allow you to savor your victory. I promise you.