[If Deathwing or the dragonkin are watching - or anyone else, Cynder's not aware of it. And her alertness level is such that she seems to be actively looking for such observers.

But she's pleased when this whatever-it-was proves it (he! The voice sounds masculine, maybe he's a male) can speak a language she actually understands. That makes things so much easier! She sits back on her haunches, wrapping her tail around her foreclaws neatly, and regards him with interest. Maybe he really isn't dangerous. No fangs either!]

Nobody's told me I can't come over here. Or on your whole loop.

[Nobody's really told her anything at all honestly.]

What are you? I've never seen anything like you before, and ... I can't quite figure out your species.

[In spite of the abrubtness, and perhaps rudeness of the question, her tone is carefully polite. At least for a 'whelp' she's coherent and articulate! ...Clearly it's a trap and any moment from out of nowhere some angry dragonkin is going to pounce.

..Except it doesn't happen.]