Paint the colours of the wind

Her task was suddenly interrupted by his massive presence in the storeroom. She had little time to greet him before he barked out his command for her to come. The sharpness in his tone startled her heart to beating in fear and her paws quickly made sure to shorten the distance between herself and her master.

As they quickly crossed the col she couldn't help but feel like she was in trouble and thought she could feel the eyes of everyone watching her being led to some kind of social gallows. Did she forget something he bid her to take care of?

They entered a new room she hadn't entered before and saw a curious set up within. Confusion crossed her face as she struggled to comprehend what it was he was showing her. A trader? Paper... instructions... Paints?

Her brow was furrowed in confused contemplation. She slowly picked up the instructions and read them. Then she put it down and looked at the pots for a moment, her mind struggling to shift gears and absorb what she was seeing, what it all meant. She dug into her memory banks for the word paint, knowing she knew what it was but it was escaping her for the moment.

She picked up the pot that held the brilliant blue pigment and it suddenly came rushing at her like a falcon to the face.

"Wait... my... Mine?" Her heart now beat with an excited energy, and her brows lifted in surprise. She glanced up at Basilisk, searching for the joke simply out of habit. He had never given her something just to whisk it away, but she couldn't help her upbringing taint her perception. Was it truly hers? She could... paint?
"I've never painted before..." She said quietly in awe, would she be any good at it? Could she paint the brilliant murals of the old palace in a new way that would suit the Armada?

"Basil this is amazing! I love it!" Her own nickname for him slipped through her tongue in her excitement. Would he notice, would he mind? She wanted to hug him!

"Speech"