Talk enough sense and you'll lose your mind

Even with her politeness, Jendayi couldn’t spare a meal she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Quickly, she reached down, and began to dig into the meat as she listened cautiously to his words. He seemed just as awkward with her at the revelation of the gravity of their situation, and it almost made her feel relieved, in some drastic sense. It felt good to know that she wasn’t alone in her feeling awkward. She wanted to retaliate, to say you could have left me there, but you didn’t, but instead she decides to remain quiet and stoic, thoughtful of his words yet curious still all the same. She ate faster than she perhaps should have, and quickly finished the meal (leaving some of it for him, politely), and pushing the rest between his own paws. A single swipe of her tongue across her lips cleared the blood from them, and golden gaze lurched up to lock her gaze with his own, intense yellow searching his mismatched. He opens his mouth to speak, and Jendayi suddenly fears what he may say—she doesn’t know why, she just feels something in her stomach drop.

I'm uh- I'm the heir to a pack further south of here… Oh no. Jendayi’s brows knit, and already she began to feel the churning in her stomach, a keen nervousness that often came with rejection (a rejection Jendayi was so used to giving by now, you think she would have grown used to it). The man had been kind enough to save her life, however, and Jendayi felt the nagging consideration in the back of her head that perhaps she’d need to give him a chance, to roll over on her back for once and stop being so selfish. He is just as awkward in his wording, and perhaps it doesn’t help that Jendayi’s face is entirely steeled, and her gaze perhaps far more intense than it should be. Even though she was usually thoughtful and stoic, very so often when Jendayi was turmoiled it showed in a near-effortless, intense concentration. It could be overpowering to some, especially those that were trying to appeal to her.

She manages a small, polite smile—but Jendayi never really smiles, and it is skewed and unattractive. “I appreciate it, but I walk the ski—er, the earth, alone,” she strained, the remnants of her own upbringing often leaking through whenever she was distracted. Now he must think me a fool yet again, she wonders, but quickly pushes forward so that he may forget; “It’s all I’ve ever known. I’m not good at making friends—even less at fitting in. I’ve never even lived in a pack before.” To say it daunted her wouldn’t be far from the truth. In fact, Jendayi was terrified of change. She had always loved the terrors and dangers of the outside world but never cared to face the trials within it. She was nothing but a mere pup when brought beside those of regality (and suddenly how small she felt next to this Heir).

Jendayi’s smile suddenly becomes more shy, more girlish; she glances toward his chin, the carefully-built wall starting to show cracks. “You did save my life, however, and I want to repay you. If bringing me back to your pack will make you happy, then I’ll go,” she finally affirmed, knowing all too well the nature of men to compete and brag. If returning with a woman draped on his arms would impress his packmates, then perhaps it would be enough for Jendayi to repay Torin his kindness.