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Moja too, was searching, but not for the profound answer to her heritage, for she knew it well .... As well as any cub with a rogue father could know from whence she came. Her flamingly red coat failed to hide the bulk of her body as she crept along the flat plains of the savannah, and her black ears peeked above the grass. They twitched as the tall stalks fluttered near them, and her bright green eyes scanned the area. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Sighing, she laid her head on her paws, green now covered by red lids, and she settled to listen to the sounds around her. Wind, still more wind.....Bugs here and there, and a steady pace of paws that passed ceaselessly back and forth in a rhythm that nearly lulled her to sleep.

But Moja knew it to be no time for sleep. She was hungry, and if it were not prey making the disturbance, then perhaps it was some form of entertainment to break up her monotonous day. She shook the sleep out of her head, and stretched her black legs forward - shoulders rippling under her well-managed coat. She would creep close enough to get a glance of this mystery, and watch, for an opening to attack, or introduce. Moja crept her way down from the shaded embankment from which she had been laying, and twisted through termite mounds and tree stumps until she was but a few meters from the source, but she could not see, her not yet adult head just short of seeing over the grass. She huffed in irritation, and leaned back onto her haunches as she had seen meerkats do, but she was off balance, and though the sound she made was nearly inaudible, it was far too louder than she would have ever wanted. She crouched, waiting now for the signal to give chase, or flee.

Moja's crouch turned instantly into a position of fear and submission, speaking quietly, head turned to expose less, she asked "I-I'm not w-who? Yorik....? No....I-I'm Moja." She was frightened by his bulk. She couldn't help but try to scoot backwards, shifting her feet, then her body to catch up to them, until she felt safe enough to rise just a little bit further, but legs still tensed in case of a sudden need to flee. She began to size this male up, knowing instantly he had the advantage, but she was curious. He was so much larger....An adult, probably. His white body mane seemed to meld into the sky like a cloud, and the black markings on him like birds.
There was no doubt that Moja was interested in him, but it was a cautious curiosity.

Sitting back on her haunches, Moja shrugged. She was nearly at ease now, but a slight ripple in her hide suggested otherwise. "Its-I suppose its fine, sorry if I may have dissapointed you...." She said, still looking away slightly, and still intimidated. "And yes, it is as it looks." Moja sighed heavily before continuing, "My brothers don't look for me as you for your sister, and I've not seen Mother since I was even smaller than this. But its fine....It gives me the freedom to do what I please when I wish." When she spoke of her independence, it was drily, as though it wasn't truly all it was cracked up to be.
Moja scraped by with little food, hunting alone, and what she hunted was small. But she wasn't starving, just lean. The small Moja sat meekly in Iorek's regal presence.

Moja's ears fell with her spirits, a heavy sigh escaping her chest as she felt the repetition of the words 'lonely' and 'alone' beat it out of her. Looking from Iorek out to the plains, with their ceaseless wind, she knew it was a perpetual rhythm, like the heartbeat of a friend that was the only thing that kept her company. But she nodded, confirming the hardships of a lone lion....Though he must know of them as well, right? For he was alone before Moja nearly pounced on him.

She was nearly in a daze when Iorek posed his question "What!? No! I mean, not on purpose! This is only the.... Second time! Uh-I think." Moja was flustered under her red coat, and embarrassed about her past hunting errors. Her tail thumped in frustration as she tried to make sure stalking Iorek truly was only the second time. There were things she had yet to learn, with her lack of experience, and her observation skills were an area in need of drastic improvement.

Moja smiled at his story. So she wasn't the only one to make mistakes. That was a good thing....Probably. Hearing Iorek tell the story of he and his sister made Moja feel for him in a way that wasn't quite pity. Pity was a weak word, and Iorek by no means fell into that category. But though she was probably swimming through his head, Moja recognized his will to move on as strength, and her smile was inclined to grow.

"Shelter? That word is foreign to me, in a non-literal sense." Moja's tale was now filled with more joking. Iorek was a good model for her. She felt a need to prove to the both of them that she wouldn't wallow in self-pity over flawed hunting or because the majority of her nights were alone. "Many of my nights have been in the open, under the stars. Sometimes I prefer it if the sky is clear enough. But I've also happened across places to spend the night that seem fit only for a lion, and perhaps that's the reason why I would promptly move on."
She was referring to her usual inclination to avoid conflict, but once more her tail flicked humorously, as it seemed that through initial conflict she met the only lions she knew.