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She was out. Her homeland, place of her birth, lay far behind her, across the border separating the Mistie lands from the Pridelands. It wasn't just a simple line, of course, that separated the two, but it was a shorter distance than she'd expected. Short enough for her to travel between lands, anyway. Ever since meeting Shairi, her desire to see this land had increased substantially. And now, she was finally here. She thought, as an afterthought kind of thing while trotting unconcernedly through the grasses, that she should have brought Liza. He was all but attached to her hip now, anyway, and he might have known his way around these lands.

She didn't notice the large shape of her unknown father at first, trotting 'til she was opposite him, before she spied him out the corners of her crimson eyes. At first, she slowed, then decided against it. She didn't know anyone here; they might be unfriendly, and she didn't want to waste her time on such people. She had to explore and get home before anyone realised she'd been gone longer than usual, or Liza started worrying she'd abandoned him. She also didn't notice the tell-tale salmon pink, hidden as it was by his black mane. She looked at him only long enough to notice he was white, a fairly regular colour in her homelands. Not of much interest.

She picked up her pace again, intent on heading right past him without a word. But while his salmon markings were somewhat hard to note perhaps at first, hers were probably the first thing anyone noticed about her.

She stopped as soon as she heard that rasp of a voice, turning to look at him. The look she gave him, however, was not meek, like he was no doubt used to getting. She wouldn't come near him. She felt less safe out of her home, as though being within the borders somehow offered her a magical protection that she got nowhere else. She knew it was ludicrous, of course, but that wouldn't make her go near this male. She couldn't help how she felt.

"Why?" she asks, in a strong, confident voice where others her size might have quailed. She may have been small, but she was strong and fast. Maybe not fast enough to outrun an adult, but she was far too proud of her abilities for her own good. One of a few of her personality flaws. "What do you want?"

But as she looked at him, she finally did notice that pink. Exactly the same. Her vermilion eyes widened minutely. Of course, it could mean nothing, but she'd been wondering about it a lot recently, after realising that Rahima had exactly the same shade as her, but wasn't related to either of her mothers. Seeing a male with this shade so soon after realising this made wonder if just maybe... She was right, though she didn't know it, but abandoned the thought. Whoever this 'father' of hers was, she had no interest in meeting him. He'd never been there for her; she didn't need him. And in her view, this male probably wasn't him, anyway. What were the chances of meeting him? One in a million?

But chance apparently had nothing to do with it.

Perhaps it was a fated meeting.

Asking after her mother's name? Well, mothers, in her case. It began to heighten suspicions she didn't want confirmed, and would far rather have it denied. Someone else might have avoided the question; she could have said she was a rogue, of curse. Could've tried to lie her way out of this. But she was stubborn, far too stubborn to do it.

"I have two," she says shortly. "Their names are Denge and Ithibati." She narrows her eyes at him. "Why do you want to know? Who are you to question me, anyway? What's your name?"

She was getting defensive. She didn't want to be interrogated, and she didn't want to be near him any more. Her mind was playing tricks on her, entertaining her with ideas about him that she didn't like. She was preparing to walk away from him at any moment.

Nyekundu.

He was the one they all spoke of, the one causing trouble off far, the one who made her mothers nervous. And... he had just called her 'child of mine'. Confirming her fears. Her mouth was dry, her eyes even wider. He was seeming to move further away from her, shaking in her view, before she realised that it was her who was moving, shaking her head as she went, backing away. Slowly. She can't really will herself, for some reason, to turn tails and run. From all the things she'd overheard said of this Nyekundu character, he sounded evil. To have it said aloud that he was her father was... something that didn't bear thinking of.

"No," she mutters under her breath. "No one told me. It's not true. No one said anything about it. Not my mothers, not Rahima, no one..." She's not talking to him, not for this part. But as her shock slowly begins to numb, she begins to regain her composure, forcing her legs to stop. It takes effort, but she manages it.

"Why should I tell you my name?" she asks abruptly, once again staring steadily at him, having visibly composed herself. The strength's back in her voice. "You may claim to be my father," she says, the word dripping with scorn, "but you've never done anything for me. I owe you nothing."

She had been tempted to move back from him when he moved toward her - there were quite a few reasons she didn't want him anywhere near her, fear only the least of them, and he kept adding more to the list - but her stubborn nature rooted her paws to the ground. "No I don't! You may have participated in the act, but that's as far as your interest went. I owe you not a thing, Lord Nyekundu," she says, voice heavy with scorn, refusing to call him father, "and I certainly don't need or want you in my life."

With every word she says, she grows that little bit bolder. The fear is leeching from her eyes. Ignoring all he said about Rahima, and refusing to confirm she was Denge's daughter in truth, she instead says, "I've heard of you in a secondpaw capacity, if that. You cause a bit of a stir with rumours of pathetic, despicable cubnapping. But I'm no cub, not any more, and the only fear I have for you is the sickening realisation that we just might be related."

When he'd grabbed her, she'd not been fool enough to wriggle. It was easy to see he was strong, and she could feel those claws pressing into her fur. No matter what she wanted to believe, the truth of the matter was, she was a lot like Nyek without even meeting him. She was definitely more like him in both personality and look then she was like her mother, the only real thing marking her as Denge's being her body shape. If, somehow, Nyunya had grown up with Nyekundu raising her, she would likely be as ruthless and cruel as he. He would likely have been her idol, and later, when she was old enough, possibly a rival for power. As it was, in those regards she was nothing like him, having Denge's personality traits of kindness and compassion, even though she was no doubt snappish at times. Well... often.

But if he expected her temper to be flaring right now, he was right.

The moment she was released from his grip, she did indeed leap up, pushing herself away by brazenly bracing her tiny forepaws against his chest and using the force to propel herself from him. The second she lands, one paw is furiously wiping at her salmon fur, as though attempting to wipe away what from anyone else would likely be a friendly, affectionate gesture that she would likely appreciate. Her crimson eyes flash as she locks a glare on his own honey orbs, hoping what she did somehow hurt him, scratched him, tugged his fur, whatever; she hoped it gave him discomfort.

"Don't you dare touch me, and don't you ever come looking for me. I don't ever want to see you again!" she spat. "I'll never be yours, and I never want anything to do with you! Take your self-proclaimed titles and go back under the rock you crawled out from."

Now, here would be the time that anyone else would walk away. Or run. Not her. Now that she's shown backbone and stood up to him, pride won't let her be the first to leave. She'll stand there glaring at him 'til he goes first, or he makes another grab at her. Then she won't be stupid enough to stay.

Although Nyunya was known for being stubborn and often unwilling to back down, a trait nurtured from many of her arguments with Fedha, but this didn't get in the way of her making rational, intelligent decisions when she needed to... especially when a huge male is charging at her like her father was. It was kind of a depressing thing to think of, that. All this time, she'd secretly harboured hopes that one day she'd meet her father and he'd be nice and kind, and a good relationship would blossom between them. He'd be hers. She had to share her mother, and while she truly didn't begrudge her brothers and sister, she did miss the times when it was just her and Denge and Ihti. But her father would be hers alone. She'd always kept these dreams close, while on the outside she upheld the facade that she didn't care and didn't want to know her absent father. And now, knowing that he was the mystery male, all her illusions were shattered irreparably.

But back to her ability to make rational decisions, she made one now, and that was, logically, to... get the hell out of there. She knew she was small; she was painfully aware of that, and if she'd stopped to consider that he was a bit small in height than most males she'd seen, she might have realised it was yet another thing she'd got from him. As it was, her emotions had been whirling like crazy, and she'd not had the recovery time enough to stop and think. But with her size, it was also painfully aware that she stood not a snowball's chance in hell of getting away if he caught her. So she ran. She hated it, hated backing down, but she ran. Ran faster than she'd ever run before.