[Her hold around him tenses a bit as another crash of lightning from some distance away reverberates through, the energy a small tickle through her armour, sensing it as opposed to actually being affected by it in the way her unprompted riding partner has.

The Lion responds in turn with a knowing, growling rumble, banking to the left through rubble, avoiding being on completely open ground with it being the tallest point of contact. ]

It is a "gift" from the Witch. I had...other abilities back home that I am unable to access here, however. [so she truly is no certain if this is a gift to make up for what she lacks here, or...something else.] But no, it does not have a name.

[As far as she's aware. If anyone would know a name of an Ancient guardian spirit of Oriande, it would be Lotor. But...well. She grits her teeth, leaning in closer to Connor as another pulse from the storm hits. The Lion still does not stumble.]

It is simply the White Lion of Oriande.