She had been scared off, though luckily not too far; the sudden yelp and stink of burning skin had jolted her into a bolt before she even knew that she was running.

Ananke came to a sharp halt a dozen or so yards into the underbrush, hearing speech behind her--and realized that whatever had happened wasn't as bad as her instincts had insisted. She made her way back, picking her way quickly through the foliage to poke her head back out, peering up with a touch of reproach and a little bit of worry.

"Are... you okay?" she managed, after a moment's hesitation. Words were still new to her, but that seemed the most serious concern, at the moment.

Never mind 'fruit.'

Ananke hesitated; did her new... friend? Companion? need help..? She fretted, because truth be told, she was realizing abruptly just how helpless she was. Being unable to fight, sure, that was one thing, but she wasn't made to fight. She was made to flee (and to have lots of kids to ensure her bloodline didn't die, as rabbits do, but never mind that now). The problem was that if someone else needed help-... she couldn't.

She couldn't carry Vanyel! She didn't know the first thing about wounds, or injuries, or burns. Or fire, even! What should I do? IF that happened again? IF he collapsed? IF, if, if...

"I'm following," she assured him, though she kept a little distance, kept to the brush and kept quite alert for any danger. "What... actually happened?" she asked, and then hesitated; "where are you going?"

Magic?

Her echoed thought, innocent, conjured imagery in her mind--ideas of sparkling light and wonder. Was her wisp an act of magic? How, though, was burning oneself magic? She had little time to puzzle over this, though, for Vanyel had at last come to a stop.

She stopped, herself, never keeping less than perhaps twenty feet between herself and the larger creature. She watched, puzzled, as he squeezed at green bulbs hanging from the trees--and then dropped back down. He held one out to her, then.

Ananke fidgeted. She wasn't sure what to make of him, yet, and wasn't sure if she should actually approach, or not. She was, honestly, afraid to. Logically, she wasn't hungry enough to risk it. And it wasn't like it'd be a learning experience; she wouldn't be able to get fruits out of trees. "I... don't think. Um. I can reach those," she said, with a hesitant tone that made it sound like a question, or suggestion. But that still didn't solve the issue of the one Vanyel was holding in his hand. He seemed friendly enough, ready to go out of his way to show her around, but her instincts still quivered and told her to run. He was big. He could eat her. There was no reason to be risking herself here.

She took a breath, and compromised. "Could you... throw it. Down here, please?" she asked, quavering--hoping that he wouldn't see her as foolish. Or, worse--not worth his time.

Ananke jolted as the fruit was tossed, the movement sparking her prey instincts almost automatically. But she settled more quickly, this time, her curiosity (and her getting used to Vanyel's presence) a mitigating factor. Nose bobbed, whiskers twitched, and her face pressed close to the mango here and there as she sniffed at it. She wasn't sure if it was good-... But a distant, faint sense of reassurance reached her, from--somewhere. A knowledge that yes, this food would be good; in fact, it would be a health benefit to her.

It was that same warm sensation she'd found after eating that gross bit of fuzzy white that Morpho had initially given her; like someone else was watching, helping her along. She didn't mind it one bit. It was good to be less... afraid of things, really.

She nibbled at it--found its taste to be delicious--and settled in to happily chew. For a moment she was just a content white bunny, chomping away at a fruit. "It isn't... your fault." This was offered between bites, thoughtful; her pale eyes shifted to peer up at Vanyel. She tried logic--reassurance. Her words, though, were tentative; she hadn't thought them through, wasn't sure of the wisdom behind them. "I was born... very small. You, were born big--I guess? I don't think... either's wrong," she went on, softly. It was just the damn size different that frightened her--but then, would she have been any less terrified of a weasel, or a hawk?

Probably not.

In any case, she looked up, glancing at him again. "Just... leave me space. I think. This is very good. Uh," and something occurred to her; he'd burned herself even getting her some food, and she had nothing to offer him in return. "Is there... anything I can do--to make up for the food? And for you... your hurt?" she tried, uncertain. She meant it, but even so, faint fear thrummed in her heart: what if he asked something difficult, or frightening? Something she didn't trust him enough to do? What if she was left having to choose--to decide!--between being rude and ungrateful, or putting herself in danger..? Between appeasing him, or staying safe..?

The mango suddenly held a sour taste, and she flattened down a little, looking at it as she went back to more slowly nibbling.

It was strange--as he spoke, she was simply listening, at first. But at the mention of groups who want to hurt innocent Gembounds like you, something stirred in the back of her mind.

She went from mentally nodding along, surprised at the selfless kindness of the half-dragon--and from wondering why being young meant she shouldn't owe much--to sharply curious, and wary. But... somehow, it wasn't her own feeling. It... felt as though it were leaking in, trailing from another source, somehow, but she trusted it. It was warm, a feeling of confident authority lurking there. She should find out what more he knew.

But somehow, she knew she had to address it carefully.

Work your way around to it, instinct--or a presence?--seemed to whisper.

"Thank you," she began with, as meek as before, licking fruit from her whiskers. She blinked up at him. "Being young... means... you don't owe?" she asked. And she shook her head, her ears flopping gently. "I don't think so? That--it's too much to remember. I think I can remember," she assured him. "I'll try to remember... where your mom lives. Um--why do they want to hurt Gembounds?" she went on, peering earnestly up at him. She felt as though she were automated, now, her demeanor still the same but controlled, almost, by another source. Willingly, though. She spoke the words, herself; but someone else guided them. "Do they ever... leave those places? How, um. Would I know them?" Her prior nervousness, faint fretting, was still there--but faint determination, too. She really didn't know why this other presence wanted to know those things--so in her mind, she genuinely wanted to know how to recognize such a threat, were it out of its expected place.

"This is good," she added, again, nibbling again at the fruit.