Cam played a dangerous game by venturing into the Nightshade pack's territory once more. There was no logical reason for her to be here, no excuse she could come up with to explain why she stalked just inside the pack's borders. Perhaps it was natural curiosity, her ingrained desire for companionship beginning to surface after years of being forced behind walls so high and thick nobody could ever hope of getting passed that drove her to the pack filled with felines. She would never admit it to herself though, her schizophrenia had left her in an almost constant state of trepidation; if she couldn't even trust her own mind, how was she to put her trust in other people? Her own birth pack had also helped push her deeper within herself, believing that if her own family saw her as a freak, other people would see her as worse for something she had no control over, that she wanted nothing more than to be rid of. Once an ice queen, she was now on a path that left her destined to live a life of loneliness and darkness, drowning in her own insanity.

Despite her massive size, the Siberian tiger seemed to glide over the land. With the changing of seasons the the forest being painted in the colors of fall, she practically vanished with her amber deep amber coat. Her gray eyes cut across the land as all her senses remained on high alert, if a border patrol happened to come upon her she wanted to be able to react before they got to her. Her medication seemed to be working well on this particular day, and her hallucinations were being uncharacteristically placid and easily distinguishable from reality. This didn't mean she was comfortable, tension still riddled her body as she snaked through the tree's. All the scents that invaded her nostrils this far at the edge of the pack lands were stale, though she recognized a couple from her recent run in's with the pack. It wasn't until she stumbled upon one she hadn't scented anywhere in the pack lands, not even in the heart of the ship that caused her to stop, scenting at the air as it was fresh; whoever it belonged to, had come by quite recently. It put her a little on edge, her muscles tensing and her tail beginning to flick back and forth. But despite her better judgement, she continued on her path, heading straight towards whoever the scent belonged to.

The indisputable sound of claws raking down the trunk of a tree had her stopping suddenly, ears flickering atop her skull trying to find a direction. Her body lowered and she stalked closer and closer, perfectly camouflaged and each of her steps well placed to keep her silent. The large tiger paused on the outskirts of a clearing, gray eyes landing on a black cat just beneath the tree with fresh claw marks imprinted upon it. For a moment, she found amusement at the sheer number of black Were felines the Nightshade pack consisted of, but the longer she stared the more she realized it was not a panther, but a tiger. She blinked in curiosity, never had she seen a black Weretiger before. Of course she was aware Weres came in every color and marking under the sun, but for a Were who grew up in a pack that was strictly the stereotypical orange and black striped tiger, any other color was seen as a defect of the product of inbreeding with other subspecies of Weretiger. She was not her parents, but she couldn't deny her curiosity that seemed to pull at her and make her desire to move closer. In the back of her mind, she hoped this wasn't another hallucination.

She rose and slowly padded out towards the other tiger, even from here Cam could see she still had the size advantage, she the product of perfect breeding to be the biggest and strongest, to be an alpha. She didn't move silently, wanting the other to hear her approach and look her way, hoping that she wouldn't startle and attack her. At a comfortable distance she stopped moving, gray eyes scanning over the black feline both cautiously and curiously for a moment in silence before she did something she hadn't done with another tiger since her days in Russia: she chuffed at her in a form of greeting and show of peace. Chuffing was a nonverbal noise that tigers used to show affection, to show they were no threat, to show excitment; there was nothing dishonest about a chuff in tiger culture. She sat back on her haunches, her affinity cooling down the air to a temperature that made her breathe puff out in front of her as if she was breathing smoke. "I have not seen a black tiger before," she said, her voice thick with it's Russian accent even when speaking through the mind to another Were. Camellia was never the best at conversation starters, and her body was still tense as she waited to see what reception she would recieve or if this other Were was even real.