Deadlines and Commitments

A soft hum of laughter filtered through the woman’s nostrils at Pegasus’ remark upon her kindness. “At the very least, easily made curious and eager to learn much.”

Her humor waned as she listened to the tall man’s words. Partially, she recognized the passion as a political  - if heartfelt and honest - quest to sway her toward his cause. It wasn’t one she had experienced yet, but she also kept in mind what her father had learned from a woman named Iskra, as well as when she knew from Brandr, musing as Pegasus completed his pronouncement.

She was silent for many long beats as she assembled her response. On the one paw, she was more than happy to help wipe out a possible threat to the future of her wolves and any children she might someday bear - would someday bear, she thought firmly – she also had to weigh in the fact that her numbers were low as it was, and she could foresee more leaving. Artur, at the very least. The young man was visibly unhappy in Valhalla.

Were Valhalla larger, she would be more amenable to war—there were gains to be had from winning such a battle—the spoils with which expanding her territories would be made possible. But there were risks. She knew there were many of the fanatical family.

“From what I’ve been told previously, the Abraxas are fanatics who believe themselves descended from a fallen god. I will not deny they have been useful in dealing some karma in the past. One of their own challenged for and won a pack known as Talis that once led an unnecessary raid against this pack and took one of our wolves prisoner in the process, maiming my father and my cousin and great uncle, and my uncle in as well. We won the raid, but relations were well damaged. I feel that justice was well dealt, though. But we never saw Valor again. Politically, I find that useful, removing a threat from the board.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet Pegasus’ again as she added, “I do see the dangers of allowing the Abraxas to remain in power for too long; however, my numbers right now are too low to be of much help. To be frank, and perhaps overly open with information, we have so few adults experienced in even hunting and healing that our youngest members have no mentors and have been sorely missing out in vital training.

“I must weigh the safety of my pack with what you request. For now, I’m afraid I cannot yet provide warriors to your cause. However, should my numbers grow, and their prowess in battle meet what I hope to achieve in Valhalla…. We shall see. It could well be that they die out like many large families have in the past. It was once that the Armadas were a force to be feared and reckoned with. Now… I haven’t heard that family name spoken in my lifetime save for my father’s history lessons. I am descended by blood from Isardis, but he is not often acknowledged as he was not well liked.”

Her haunches lowered neatly to the ground, tail flicking to drape over the peat and heather at her paws in shimmering strands and locks as she tipped her head, studying the man as she added, “I am not dismissing your cause out of paw, mind. I will keep it in mind, and if your pack requires aid against a siege, Abraxan or some other threat, I will lend mine in any way I can, even if it is myself alone that comes to battle at your pack’s side, assuming you are still welcoming to an alliance with Valhalla…”

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think