Big Salmon Lake [m] Fresh out of an icky gooey womb

Tonravik listened to his words. Neither of those names were of any consequence to her, Silvertip included despite their most recent visit. Perhaps her mate would be intrigued by this, but not her. It did not matter. These were not the packs she had meant. But she could identify with the situations, looking to her wait. It was a Great Bear Wilderness phenomena, then. When he asked his question, she looked back to him.

"A newer pack. We dragged a member back to them," she said tonelessly, ear flicking, thinking, maybe she is dead, now, before finishing with, "We hope they do not return. Others, too, we have dealt with." That Blackfeather wolf, and perhaps there was an other... but all pack names evaded her. Only their scent was familiar. She snorts, thinking of how dim the others are. "We keep to the Spine; we will be returning no more bodies." In it was a warning in itself, and also, a simple promise that she and hers would stay in their lands and not bother him, as they had no reason to. Her wolves had all the food they could want, and shelter, and safety.

Tonravik looked thoughtful. "One wolf of that pack left a poisoned rabbit." She thought it fit for the other to know, as her mate had done. Not because they were friends, or because she owed them anything, or because she was kind, but because of that protective urge she felt for... for what? Cubs. If he had any, it would be good for him to know.

Of course, if any cub in the world trespassed on her land, she'd sooner kill them than let them live and rear them to be another of her competitors internally.

What a good, compassionate, woman she could be.