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The shadowy femme understood adaptation; it was in her blood. But she was not sure if she could appreciate the power he described. It was something she would have to see with her own eyes to judge. As a mountain wolf, no matter how she wandered, it did not seem likely that she would encounter such drastic change.

She shrugged. "A strong wolf would not lose himself in that change."

Listening to Jonsi carry on, she decided that his story was fantastical indeed. For all that the events he told her of were only supposed to have taken place a generation or two ago, they had the air of ancient pack lore. She decided that it would be best for her to treat them as such. After all, a story did not have to be strictly true for it to have power. Indeed, the very best stories were often embellished upon.

"What changed their hearts?" she asked. Perhaps such close proximity to men corrupted them.

It would have been better, she thought, to move on. There was no shame in accepting a cause as lost, no matter how deeply seated in a territory a pack might be. She could not imagine diminishing to such a point as he described, and she knew that her pack would never allow themselves to be destroyed, even if anything was capable of challenging them.

The lapse in his otherwise easygoing expression did not go unnoticed by her. Though the story itself may be wild, its lesson seemed to hit rather close to home for this wolf. Perhaps it was about his pack after all, in its own way.

Senka allowed herself a good while to contemplate his story. "A sorry fate, but I will not pity them. They allowed their suffering to grow."

It came as a bit of a surprise that he would ask her how she would change the story. Not that she was at all a bad person to ask - she was in fact rather capable - but he had no knowledge of her profession as of yet. Perhaps he just wondered about her impression from the audience's viewpoint. Regardless, she considered his question.

"Perhaps it does not need to change at all," she countered. "Not all stories are glorious things. This one is a lesson and a warning, and that is just as valuable. Changing it would only diminish its worth, however unhappy it may be."

It was, perhaps, not what he wanted to hear, but she would not pander to him at the expense of a story. That would hardly be honoring Bryanni, nor would it be fair to her craft.

A sudden thought occurred to her, making the corners of her lips lift in amusement. Often, Senka manipulated conversation to her liking, and that was simple enough in its own way, but for the first time in her recent memory, the flow of a conversation had gotten away from her without her even realizing it. It was easy to talk to Jonsi. Just talk. No particular agenda. No need to pry a story from his jaws. It was...rather nice.

"Indeed not," she said. "It is my first time through these lands." There was so much to explore and so little time, Senka did try not to retrace her own pawsteps unless it was strictly necessary.

She considered letting him tell the tale of the two packs and what happened to them, but... "You have given me a story. It is only fair that I return the favor." That was how the game was played, after all. Give and take. A tale for a tale. "What would you like to hear? I'm taking requests today."

"No?" she mused, then grinned at him. "What did you take me for?"

The shadow-coated femme flicked through her mental list of stories, glancing at this, discarding that, deciding which fit the abstract concept of heroism. What was a hero, really? One who charged fearlessly into the fray? One who stood up for his beliefs? Or was it something else? Something less obvious?

"I think I can oblige," she said at last, and then seemed to settle into a more relaxed state, despite the fact that they were walking still. "There once lived a wolf who was much larger than others. For this, he could have been feared, but he was so quiet and bumbling that instead he was ridiculed and cast aside. He lived on the fringes of his pack, existing without belonging."

An idealist? She chuckled. No, Senka was no idealist, though she could shamelessly admit to being an optimist and perhaps an opportunist. Life had been good to her, after all. What reason did she have not to eek from it all the enjoyment that she could? Though she did wonder at looking so naive. Regardless, she told her story.

"He did not bemoan his fate. Rather, he was content with his lot. He had a pack that he could look after as well as he was able. There was little more that his caring nature could ask for. Thus he carried on for a few years until there was born a runt to the pack. She was a sweet child, if small, and her position was safe enough because she was the daughter of the alpha.

"The giant found particular joy in doing things for her - leaving little gifts or doing quiet little deeds - though he asked for no thanks and remained as anonymous as he could. He feared that his kindness would be rejected if he was overt."

The quiet words drew her glance, but she continued the story regardless. "The pup grew, as pups are wont to do, and she grew into a lovely young wolf, indeed. She was not perfect, of course, but never was she deliberately unkind. Many young males were captivated by her, but she never showed any signs of preference.

"Perhaps it was just as well. War fell upon the pack. It was a long, drawn-out affair that claimed many lives. It escalated, devastating the pack, until at last the alpha's daughter was captured. The pack knew not what it could do. There were not so very many of them left. Any attempt at a rescue would surely be met with failure. They were lost, their spirit all but broken.

"Yet the giant had not been idle. He had fought beside brothers who had never wished to acknowledge him, stood strong in the face of an enemy that refused to relent. He was a humble as ever, but he had gained a new confidence. The news of the alpha's daughter's capture struck him hard. He had failed to protect the one thing he had tried to do his best by, and that simply would not do. He knew that he had to at least try to rescue her."

"Indeed," she said. "Despite his size, the giant was so accustomed to being ostracized that he had long since learned how to render himself almost invisible. He was able to make his way unnoticed into the heart of the enemy's den. There, he found the alpha's daughter.

"She was hungry and frightened, but mostly unharmed, must to his relief. He led her out of the den, skirted the edge of the clearing, and into the treeline. It seemed that they would be able to escape without trouble. But alas, it was not meant to be. Though the alpha's daughter was small, she did not have the giant's stealth. Her paw snapped a twig.

"It was a quiet sound, muffled, but it was enough to alert the enemy. Their howls filled the air. The giant, understanding that the time for quiet was over, urged the alpha's daughter to her fastest speed, then faster still. He had to see her to safety.

"But the enemy pack rallied quickly and were fast on their heels. It was only a matter of time before they overcame the fleeing pair and that time was running short. The giant instructed the alpha's daughter to get herself home as quickly as she could. He told her not to stop for anything. Then, when he could make out the sound of their pursuers' paws striking the earth, he turned on them with a fearsome snarl."