Despite All My Rage

The rogue's words spoke of experience with diplomacy of this sort, and she studied him through narrowed eyes. Rarely did rogues and loners have a use for diplomacy, seeing as they had little to offer most packs. This wolf was, at one point, likely to have been in a pack, either highly ranked enough to be involved in diplomacy or a guardian of some sort guarding someone who was. Interesting.

She stretched her slender limbs. "Truly," she agreed with him. "There is much I must adjust to if I am to care properly for Ebony, and for Ebony's heirs. Not the motherly sort am I," she rumbled, a wryly frustrated note in her voice. "But be that I must for Ebony's orphans. A strange thing, this." Her pelt rippled, as though to shake off such thoughts, as she returned her attention fully to the rogue, silver eyes sharply evaluating. "And you, Newol? What are you, truly?" Was he a longer, or a pack wolf? Rogue, or guardian? There was something she could not quite pin down about his mannerisms.

I won't be ignored

Time won't heal this damage anymore