Several days prior to Gabrielle’s departure from Reign of Terror, she was busying herself preparing for the journey. At the time she had not fully decided that she would drag Kerai along, as he could easily become a liability; but leaving him within the pack all alone . . . Something within her wouldn’t allow it. She paced about the lower edges of the pack, carefully navigating the mixture of earth and rock lest she stub a toe. Her mind kept jumping to the last encounter with Hades, that look of heartless lust that finally opened her eyes, the cold words that stabbed her in the heart –

Gabby suddenly leapt forward at the target, a young sapling, and lost her footing, falling to her side amongst the jagged stones. She let out a yelp of pain and scrabbled back up to her paws, side stinging about as much as her pride.

Zisa wasn't as keen to wander off on her own since her older brother's warnings against it. Not that it had been a really big deal, but she didn't like to go against orders -- especially not orders from family, even if they were couched in casual terms. Still, it wasn't the middle of the night, and it wasn't as though pack members were set to turn against her at any second. She was bored, and had every intention of relieving that boredom, even if it meant wandering off someplace she probably shouldn't be.

Then a sound caught her ears and she stiffened, immediately on the alert. That sounded like a cry of pain...or at least startlement. Suddenly wary, the red-streaked wolf turned in a slow circle, searching for the source of the noise. "....Hello?"

“s**t . . . Agh, s**t . . .” Gabrielle didn’t often curse, but at the moment she didn’t give a hoot. It was as if God wanted to give her a few more sharp pokes before embarking on her first mission as a lady, like He wanted to remind her of just how easy it was to falter back into anonymity and – and weakness. Lust, a sin, was the first to cleanse her; she learned that all too quickly. And now, it seemed, pride was quick to follow.

Pride before her graceless fall upon the rocks. Hah.

Gabby’s ears turned to a soft greeting not far away, somewhere a little higher on the hill. As the figure circled closer, she spotted familiar patterns: solid black and white, vein-like markings. She almost thought it was Raelin, but no; the scent didn’t match. A child of hers? “Hello,” she called back, shaking herself a little. “Hello. A mishap I’m ashamed you had to see. I apparently am out of practice.”

Zisa, finally locating the source of the noise, peered over at her. She had seen the other wolf before, she thought -- it was hard to forget a wolf wearing so many adornments -- but she didn't think she'd ever actually met her. She tilted her head. Two things were very clear, suddenly, from that expression: one, that she was still quite young; two, that she was not a particularly violent wolf by nature. "Well, I didn't actually see anything, if that makes you feel better."

It said something that Gabby immediately thought she was speaking like a player of the court: I saw nothing if perhaps you were able to do something in return. But here, she couldn’t seen any evidence that the femme was as shallow as that: no, that was something closer to Whisper’s territory, which the lady thought was a world away from all things normal. She cracked a small smile at the other wolf, though if she had known Gabby in her youth, she would have known this was not as genuine as it used to be. “I’m sorry, but you look terribly familiar,” she confessed. “I must have seen you about before. What is your name?”

"Zisa," she said, settling back down to her haunches. "My parents are Haemon and Raelin." Although that, she thought, was pretty obvious: she was such an even mixture of both parents that she would be hard-pressed to deny their relation. "Are you going somewhere?"

“Zisa . . .” The name was not familiar, though her parents were. Haemon was one of the first wolves Gabrielle had met in the pack, and the shaman’s overall demeanor was rather . . . off. Something was up with the family, she thought, even if she couldn’t specify what. But Zisa didn’t exude the same aura as her father, so perhaps she was less likely to snap. “I know of your family. My name is Gabrielle,” she replied with a small nod. “I sometimes helped them watch over your older siblings. How are they?” Small talk felt . . . odd. Almost awkward. She avoided Zisa’s question for the moment.

Her eyes widened, slightly. She hadn't expected Gabrielle to be so old! It must be the costume, she thought -- it hid her age. She shrugged, noncommitally, and wished the wolf had answered her question, as that seemed much more interesting than talking about her older siblings. "They're doing well," she said, and then glanced over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be watching. She hesitated, and then, "...Are you a Lady, then?"

Another nod. “I am. The queen’s guard taught me, though I received one or two lessons from Moghedien herself.” If it could be called that. Gabby all too well remembered that the silver female thought rather little of Liriel’s most active daughter, believing the unstable femme’s genes further deteriorating Gabrielle’s less than “evil” persona. Still, it was something to take a little pride from in the pack’s scheme of things. “You asked where I was going? I am training for my first mission to collect tribute from a pack not far from here.”

Zisa smiled. "I thought you might be," she said. She'd heard some whispers here and there of such a mission in the works, and it had seemed reasonable enough that a decorated female such as this -- and one who had helped with her siblings -- would hold rank. Then, uncertain if it was appropriate to ask but unable to curb her curiosity, "...What pack?" As if she knew anything about the packs in the area! Zisa knew perfectly well that she would never be a Lady, but the goings-on fascinated her.

So used to conversing with wolves already on the need-to-know basis, Gabrielle blinked at Zisa’s lack of knowledge. But, she remembered, the other femme had not been present at the last pack meeting. “A place called The Order of the Rose,” she said, and scoffed softly. “What a fanciful title. I imagine tree-humping inbreds will greet me halfway through their territory.” It was an impulse to put up that metaphorical mask, to reinforce the idea of a cool-faced Lady who never was shaken by what was thrown at her. “Nonetheless, our king has ordered me to investigate their lot. Rumor has it that they pursue ‘higher’ ideals than most.”

She laughed at the image of tree-humping inbreds. She had indeed been far too young to attend the meeting, and perhaps wouldn't have been allowed to go even if she'd been a bit bigger -- some of her siblings tended to be rather over-protective of her. "Sound like a bunch of fools," she agreed. "Are you going by yourself?"

Gabrielle couldn’t help but smirk along with Zisa’s laugh, even chuckle a little like what she had said was the truth. “I might,” she replied one they had calmed down. “I am still thinking on it. Prior Ladies and Lords have, but there was nothing in the rules I was given saying it had to be a solo mission.” Still, the only wolf she would bother bringing along was a slave, as if that would do much good. “Tribute collecting is meant to have the appearance of politeness; forcing the king’s will comes later should tribute fail . . . The king has destroyed a pack that defied him before.” It was a common story of how the Jewels of the Meadows has been scattered as easily as leaves; their alphas were purportedly slaughtered or driven out.

She nodded. She'd heard of them, at least -- and also knew that, so far as she'd seen, nothing of its kind had happened since she was born. Then again, who would ever want to stand up to Chernabog? she certainly wouldn't. That was the sort of thing that made you proud and relieved to be in the pack, not outside of it. "Is it a long journey? I'd take someone with me, if I were going, just so I wouldn't get bored." Then she looked at her paws because that was a very stupid thing to say.

Bored? Ah, if only that was the least of her problems. Gabrielle gave a nonchalant shrug. “There must be other things to see beyond this border. I’ve never been out of it to be honest, save for the occasional hunt – but not straying beyond several miles even then.” It made her realize just how small her horizons truly were. What laid out there for her to witness? Would she come back wounded or more worldly? “I have questions about the outside world . . . But they are secondary to my mission. Do you want to be a Lady, Zisa?” she suddenly asked.

The question startled her, and she kept her gaze firmly fixed on her paws. "I wouldn't presume such a thing," she said. "I mean...it would be a great honor, but...I don't really think I'm.....suited." She flinched, as though expecting to be hit for this.

Gabrielle gazed at the femme for a few seconds, expression unreadable beneath the shadows of her hood and mask combined. And then, she simply nodded. “It’s good to know your own boundaries as much as your pack’s,” she told Zisa. “This pack doesn’t need more politicians. We need a healer, as I suggested the queen; your mother was being trained, I heard, but . . . Personally, I have seen no evidence of progress.” How she longed to be one rather than a Lady at this moment – free from the nervousness of approaching the unknown and yet still being a vital asset. “As well as more, ah, ‘stable’ warriors and trainers. Or a wolf to corral the more restless slaves.”

She smiled. She'd always thought her father would make an excellent healer, if he only used his powers for benevolent purposes. But of course she would never suggest that. "I want to be a good warrior. I train, in my free time." Well, except when her brother yelled ather for sneaking out at night. That had taken a lot of her free time away. "I hope I'll be good enough to serve the pack properly."

Better in her free time than with Static or Whisper, Gabby thought. Bloodthirsty wolves were common enough, it was almost boring; if such a thing was possible. “Warriors will be needed of course,” she told Zisa with what she thought was an encouraging tone. “Perhaps you would like to take up sparring with the others? I’m sure they would have something to teach you.” An image floated into her head of her brother, Cassius, bloodied and bruised from his latest “lesson” from the king, but she shook it off. “Perhaps we will speak another time; I really must prepare for my journey.”

In all honesty, Gabby just didn’t know how to talk casually anymore.

She nodded enthusiastically. Encouragement was like her kryptonite: she was young, and eager to please, and she felt perhaps more important than she was really supposed to now that she'd spoken with this fancy lady. "Of course. I'm sorry to keep you." She resisted the urge to ask if she could come along.

“No harm done. However. . . If you would like, I can share the story of my journey with you first when I return,” Gabrielle found herself saying. Here, she recognized, was a chance at her first normal, possibly healthy friendship with someone. To throw it away simply because she was at a loss for conversation topics would be foolish and detrimental to her emotional health; frankly, it would be nice to be able to talk to someone candidly who wasn’t a slave or of a higher rank. “God knows the world is full of strange and odd creatures; I wouldn’t be able to keep it to myself.”

Zisa grinned as though her birthday had come early. "I would like that very much," she said, and wagged her tail, and again it was striking how very young she was. "Good luck, Lady Gabrielle." And don't fall on any more sharp rocks, she managed not to add.

This time, Gabrielle managed something closer to a genuine smile. “Thank you.” I am going to need it, she thought with a small sigh, turning back to the sapling that had eluded her. Her side still stung, though it had become inconsequential during the conversation; it was like small waves of pain the continued to nag at her long after she left the area for a nap. Time wouldn’t cease for her, but Gabby would do what she could to slow it down so that she could properly prepare for what lay ahead: even if she didn’t have the slightest inkling of how it would turn out.