I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root.

Caked with the dirt of endless miles treaded by tired and calloused feet those same tired and bone bare digits drag forward an equally bare body. Doe like - those lean limbs pulled that dark, starving body into familiar ground as large eyes stare with endless caution. Circe has survived her first winter. It is time for fattening the sinew which is left of her but she is relentlessly drawn to the redwoods like a horse led violently by it's bridle, the mouth bloody and foaming at the sharp bit. She almost does not remember. The obscure and dreamlike images which have guided her lack any memory of a family.

It is what you fear.

She is hard like the earth. Like the dirt and rock against those worn pads and she has invested little thought in her creation. Assuming only that she was derived of that very hardness. Careful and calculated her stride comes to a sudden halt within the depths of the forest. Fleshy and the color of charcoal her nose first lowers to the ground and then rises skyward, lips curling to bare bone-white teeth. Trespasser the word echoes within her typically barren thoughts. Hackles raise as the scent amplifies. Her tail slashes the air with anxiety. She is frozen, all but one hovering limb firmly planted on that hard earth that she had thought was hers.

I do not fear it, I have been there.

Relentlessly, she patrols the thick of Tortuga's forest- taking her time to make sure every inch of it is clean from intruders- that it is guarded. There are pups here after all- and no one will harm them, as long as they bare the Tortugan namesake. She is on an emotional roller-coaster lately, going from anxious to angry in miliseconds. At the moment, she's at an uneasy neutral, her mood able to swing easily into either direction. She moves along the border, scenting someone new- and her violet eyes widen slightly as she emerges from the brush to see an intruder seemingly frozen. It is a wolf she recognizes, which is beneficial to her- as the last intruder had been attacked outright. She comes closer, wondering if the girl will move to remover herself from the Tortugan lands, or if she will remain frozen. "I remember you." Roman says lightly. She remembers the girl, but does not remember her name. So quietly, she stands her posture non-aggressive, rather curious as too this other girls wants. Greek Speak -- Roman Speak

Is it the sea you hear in me,

At the first sound of approach the girl's face whips sharply in the direction of her company. The whites of her eyes shining with eerie contrast to her dark irises beneath the sallow sun. She barks with maleficence. Backoff. She turns to face the stranger head on as parted jowls seek her sent with desperate intent. At first Circe feels trust. In her poor state her first instinct is to follow. Her tail curls and tucks neatly between two thin, sharp thighs. Secondly, Circe feels comfort. This stranger is a woman and a mother. The idea is alien to her but instinct draws further submission and her tense stance softens. Superior. Pregnant. Unfamiliar.Thirdly, Circe realizes the stranger has spoken. It has been long since she has heard any speech and for the few tense minutes shared between them the speech is intelligible. Her mind races to understand the stranger, but her fear and confusion strikes first. A rigid spine bends to expose sacred geometry, ears fold and tauten a starving face. Yet Circe chooses to whine rather than to snarl, that choice posing a specific inquiry -- Will you hurt me?

Its dissatisfactions?

Her neutral expression never falters as the stranger seems to go through different reactions so quickly. Roman takes in her form- and her eyes soften and perhaps her maternal instinct takes over. She steps forward slowly, her stance relaxing, though she remains a good distance away. "Oh you poor thing." She coos, her voice soft and her expression gentle. This wolf needed help- need a good meal at the very least. "I am Roman, I promise I won't hurt you." She speaks slowly, and carefully. Her promise is firm in her words, and internally her heart is breaking for the younger wolf. "Can I help you?" She asks, wanting permission before coming closer- even a nod or a shake of the head will do. She has to do something for her. Greek Speak -- Roman Speak

Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?

Unable to properly communicate with the woman, her sentences are acknowledged with a second, and then third whine. Each incomprehensible sentence brings Circe comfort. Each slow step brings Circe anxiety. She has slowly folded unto herself, first sitting, then laying. She finds herself coiled upon the ground. Shrinking in a half-hearted retreat. Teeth are ever bare but those black lips relax as short breaths expel from withered lungs. She pants, doglike, with a softened expression as if she were some pet leashed to this woman. Ears twitch, fold slowly this way and that as Circe attempts to understand. Help. Circe finds herself nodding with half comprehension.

Love is a shadow.

Maybe it's her maternal instincts kicking in, but as the girl nods, Roman moves towards her slowly. Stretching her muzzle towards her, she seeks to nuzzle her in an odd comforting gesture. She then sits back, making herself smaller as she watches the child. Should she call for a healer? Should she catch the girl something to eat? Pushing herself back to her paws, she lowered her head slightly. "I'm going to go catch you something to eat. I will return quickly." She says, turning and vanishing into the forest. Her hunt doesn't take long, as the forest is teaming with life an soon she reemerges with a squirrel in her jaws. She slowly approaches the young girl, and drops the squirrel, before nudging it closer to her with her paw. "For you." She says softly, blinking. She sinks onto her haunches, then onto her belly a foot away from the girl and watches her- hoping that she'll accept the meal. Greek Speak -- Roman Speak