The night was as dark as she had ever seen before. Unbeknownst to her, it was Hallows Eve, a night the very beings they praised became the center of attention. Yet, it was not the bleak mid-autumn night that caused her to call upon her bretheren and those who had stumbled upon their hole in the ground. It was to count the many things they had been given in recent weeks though they had been on the verge of irrelevance months before. They had grown, and with them came the strength that was promised to carry out the Night Mother's will. 

Her head was thrown back to call for the presence of all that could; Redgrove was their mark. While Meldresi's bones rested within the blood flowers, it was her presence that they called for that night.

 

The dark woman would have nothing that would challenge her children. So, at the news of yet another litter being born within the dark woods, the Silencer tensed; unable to bring light to her darkened eyes. Whatever the intentions of Potema, it was in her children that the Brotherhood would succeed to, the next generation to take up the reigns once the rest were dead and gone, as had been the plan all along. However, suspicion boiled underneath her bones;  Potema's children would only prove to be unwanted competition, and no matter how horrible, the dark woman was not in the slightest pleased with the update so much so it caused her to fall silent. What had her children been made for if not to do the very thing that Potema's future young would take away? What was the point of Potema's young when they did not need more, nor would they serve any purpose than to challenge the already existing? A distant look was set upon her features, unable to bring herself to fake a smile she did not mean. She was heartless amidst a celebration, however, it was in her mind that the legacy of her own would not be smothered by others, even in their youth. While she could not halt nor slow the production of Potema's children in her womb (without causing anarchy, of course) she, by no means, had to celebrate life that was not worth celebrating. Who knew if they even lived inside the pale woman, or if they would be born breathing? Nemesis would not waste her time, nor draw from the attention of the lesser ranks to contribute to the common congratulations that seemed to circulate around the circle. Instead, she seemed to shrink back, eyes trained anywhere but the pregnant woman not a foot away; seemingly burying herself among her own children in attempt to draw attention away from herself -- and the fact she had not spoken a word of well wishes. 

As the meeting went on, and the old man would tell tales, Nemesis would further reach in to her own mind, unable to grapple the though of her brood becoming -- inferior. The mere thought morphed into a shudder and she picked herself up to wander away from the group, moving towards the multiple streams in search of what would relieve her sudden dry throat. Nemesis', perhaps, only children would not be known as the lesser group, and she would not have gone through weeks of torment to produce children that would be smothered by others in all sense of the word. Something was to be done about it, if not over time and a course of extreme subtleness. She knew she could not hurt a hair on the to-be pups head while Damien lurked around, and so, it would be through her own children that she made sure they knew that Potema's little one's would only smite their futures if they did not do something about it. 

The tales did not interest her and neither did the man who told them. It was Potema's news of pregnancy that laid heavily on her mind and she could not get past it. It meant so many things, so many impending dangers; the winter, the challenge, the everything. The dark woman could not stay seething in the dark with no relief to her anger. Excusing herself, she picked herself up from the pile of children that had nestled around her and departed the scene in silence. The woman was of fury and rage, and so had her temper been instigated.