Watching, Wiflor would notice his smile and return it.  She did right, and with that she felt almost grand, even as the wagon moved.  Yet still her eyes remained calm and relaxed, and as the wagon began passing by she'd climb up into the back, moving to lounge across one of the piles and again close her eyes.  As before she stayed relaxed and even as Cyrus sought to press onward on the journey she was too far in a content state to really be as excitable as before.  Within seven yards of leaving the cave she'd already be back asleep.<br/><br/>A cold journey meant nothing for through the paths she were eternally warm.  The bumpy road meant nothing for in her rest she found the most comfort.  The entirety of the day she slept and as they reached the town she'd only just barely stir.  Glancing at the passing scene and noting some of the people only to return to her rest immediately after.  Normally she'd at least be walking along the wagon for exercise or watching the people out of interest.  But at the time she just seemed a bit distant from the scene and uninterested in the changes.<br/><br/>Even as Atticus came into view she'd simply give him a glance, a gentle smile, and immediately after she'd close her eyes once more and return to her rest.  One could ask why but the answer was simply this.  She was incredibly comfortable with the fact that she didn't have to keep her defenses up.  The fact that she had someone else providing that security was the world for her.  Day after day she'd become less and less like a powerhouse tiger and more and more like a domesticated lazy housecat.<br/><br/>Days for her seemed minutes and other then to eat she'd not do much.  Sometimes she'd lick herself clean, other times she'd toy with the contents of the wagons, and on the rarest occasions she'd watch Cyrus or Atticus before returning to rest.  Up to that point, in a way it seemed almost like any passion in Wiflor was beginning to die down.  Even as they set up camp without the mercenaries in tow for one of their final nights...<br/><br/>The steak laid before her wasn't taken too well.  Rather she'd stick out a lone claw and trace across it's surface back and forth, her smile not showing up all that often at the given point.  Then it took place.  She would not eat the steak that night.  Rather she'd simply turn it down, returning to a restful solitude, unwilling to join Cyrus as she had so many times before for their rest.   Indeed she had her reasons...