Step One: Get Out Alive

“Neither.” The feminine tones held a chill that spoke volumes as the silver timber frame slid out from behind Enigma and Xephris. Mismatched blue and gold gaze landed on her son with a chilly anger, but perhaps a hint of approval? Then they landed on Creed, a simple look telling him she would handle it from here. “I will allow your wounds to be healed. But then you will leave. Your pack,” and here her voice dripped malice and condescension, “Is no more.” She had just come from the healing camp. It was done; Hellstrom was finished. She had expected no less, with Abaven and Imperium’s forces combined. Her gaze turned to Enigma as she moved around to stand beside Creed. “Give my son trouble, and I will take you down and give you to Imperium as a gift. Your friend, too.” She was still considering it anyways.

She recognized the smell of Enigma; he carried hints of the one who had sired him. It was as inescapable as one’s shadow in the light of day. Ghosts? Pah. But Enigma had already been dealt a just penalty by the jaws of fate. She’d gotten a story out of Baine about a little blind pup from Hellstrom, left alone. The other scent around that pup had been this male. It wasn’t hard to put a story together. He had either lured a helpless child out and left him to die, or had not taken measures to ensure the young were back with their mother before going on his jaunt. Thankfully, any suffering under poor parentage was spared by whomever had taken his ability to spread his genes.

She stood, ready to lunge should the son of Sin cause any trouble for himself, trusting Creed to back her and aid Tornach should Enigma of his ex-packmate attack. They would be fools if they tried.