Bearclaw Valley if the lord's willing and the creek don't rise

Alexander was no stranger to battle, he’d engaged it countless fights all throughout his life. He didn’t fault her for that, though he was taken aback by her comment. “It doesn’t matter if it was your doing or not,” he declared, eyes narrowing into a glare. Her contribution didn’t matter, nor did it stand out to him. All he could focus on was the fact that she had an empty socket where her eye should be. “Even if you started it, this”—he pointed towards her eye with his nose—“is taking things t—” He couldn’t finish his sentence, the rest of the words trapping themselves in his throat. Because through his rage he was still listening, still taking in her words as the explanation was continued, and there was one word in particular that left him struggling to continue his rant.

Wolverine.

“...are you saying a wolverine did this to you?” he asked, needing some ounce of clarification to assure himself that he wasn’t hearing things. “Did you at least kill it?” If it had managed to take out her eye, he could only imagine what she must have done to it in return.