Ravensblood Forest Tonight we are young

It seemed that Kitsch had been right — she wouldn’t have to carry the conversation, because Dakarai was doing it for her. He wove a fantastic tale that reminded her something of the stories her old nan used to, about princes and princesses [much like she] in lands far, far away. There was drama, love, lust, betrayal and vengeance! Kitsch couldn’t help put flick her ink dipped ears forward and cup them towards his voice, hanging on to his every word. But when the fairytale concluded and Lia affirmed Teaghlaigh’s support, her stomach sank. This wasn’t a fairytale but a very distinct reality — her reality. 

“Wait, what?” she questioned bluntly. “We might be attacked?” her angular head swung to Lia, looking for any answers, but the silver shewolf seemed to buttress such [perceived] insubordination. The girl didn’t understand… Wasn’t this place supposed to be her refuge? Why would Dakarai do this to her?