Gonna draw your last breaths, at the end of our Mek’Leths

Since her fall from leadership, Sparrow found herself drinking more. Way more. Shedding the responsibility of leading a pack and cleaning up the lands, there simply was more time to drink. Maybe a bottle here and there to help her mind shut off at the through the day, and she only ever awoke with a hangover. She looked forward to nothing, not even the raids that the Raiders would go on soon.

Friar has clipped her fur shorter, her body leaner than before from swapping meals for more drink, the combination giving her a distinctly more angular look than she had ever sported before. She should have been excited when she heard about the raid, but the only thing that struck her was that Sirius was family to Recluse. He had to know of something, or someone to suspect. That thought alone drove her to the battlefield.

She peeled away from the group, watching, waiting. Her blood not yet thick with alcohol and her head suffering for it. She traced the shapes of Sirius and Gilgamesh as they clashed. Meet their energy, Gil has said just as she used to when she was taking the fight to other packs. Now they would do the same on their home turf.

Surely someone would target the old pirate king, so she waited for it. Maybe physical pain would bring some other feelings along with it.