When The Sun Dies and Night is Calling

It would seem the french lady was a little late to the party, it wasn't the fight that really drew her there but an all too familiar scent. The scent of blood and sweat was what had drew her to these battlefields that now two danced upon. A soft growl was given as she came to the scene of the fighting and the small ring of wolves that were here; maybe one of them could fill her in as to what was going on? To her it looked like a pack challenge at best and worse a grudge match. One of the bystanders caught her eyes before she had picked a spot, the heavy female smelled of milk and whelps, it didn't surprise her but such a thing wouldn't be coming for a long time. The Pendrgaon has to much to do and so little tie to get it done, shifting her way to just the right side of the fea that gaze would settled on the battlers as she took a seat. "Mind filling in a new comer to these lands?" A innocent enough of a question for the dame, as she waited an answer her gaze was on the two trading blows.