As she listened to him speak of Druids and white furred shifters, she started to drift into her own thoughts. His words were still clear as day as she clung to every word. But that got her thinking. Both her parents were white furred shifters. Save for her streak of gray, she was too. Maybe she was a descendant of Druids.<br/><br/>A yawn escaped as she buried her muzzle and face deeper against Warren's side. Then she remembered something. Her father was a history professor for a short period of time and he was able to trace their ancestry back quiet a bit before his death. In her half conscious state, she remembered the old piece of parchment their family tree was on so vividly. Most of it anyway. He (her father) used to tell her she was more powerful than she thought, but he would never elaborate. Maybe the reason he said that was because she really was. Not metaphorically, but literally.<br/><br/>Did she really have powers she didn't know about just waiting to be unleashed? Before she could ask Warren more about what he could do, how he did it all, she fell asleep. Her breathing was slow and shallow, body still as she slept.