Dagmær kept her head down as they moved. She felt embarrassed for her earlier outburst but she didn't know what to do about it. She didn't want to think about the awful luck she was having with homes and friends lately, how she seemed to gain things only to loose them a moment later. Any more Dagmær was beginning to wonder if a stable life was possible. Was there even a point to it? It was fine though, really it was. She wanted to be a rogue anyway, who needed a pack? Not her! Not her…
Dag hid a wince as she was addressed as 'sweetie'. She wasn't sure what to make of the ooey gooey nicknames… normally she'd hate them and tell Irie just want she thought of pet names for a mighty warrior but the little nicknames reminded her of her mother. Also, if Dagmær was honest with herself she didn't really want to be a warrior anymore. A hunter maybe, something different. She didn't want to be like her grandmother for whom she was named and she certainly didn't want to be like her father. It was becoming more and more clear to her each day that he simply wasn't interested in her.
