She gasps in a healthy mix of surprise and delight when the blade slips out of the wolf's mouth. She loves jewellery just fine on its own, but jewellery with an extra special purpose--now that is something else. She grins at the compliment.
"Mama Volka can't help but be fierce," she says. She shifts the pendant in her hands to examine the blade, looking at sharpness and length and imagining how she'll use it if she has to. Not when; Zhenya learned a long time ago not to borrow trouble.
She turns her gaze on Rodeo and smooths her features out into a stern, matronly expression. "She has to look after so many scrappy wolf cubs. All of you are trouble." But she can't get through the last part without breaking into a grin.
Of course she can't. If they weren't trouble, she wouldn't love them all.
"But you are Mama Volka's trouble and she loves you for it." She shifts the head again. "Left eye, does that bring the blade back in?"