Witch's Marsh at the center for holy wars

Far from it, my dear. The somewhat overly familiar form of address made Bhreac smile slightly, as did the implicit compliment, though she didn't really have a response. Flirting wasn't something Bhreac was familiar with — perhaps for the best, since she'd seldom encountered wolves who weren't related to her before. Still, there had been the occasional passerby or friend of a relative who'd spent time with their pack here and there, and she'd probably had a crush or two before, but it just hadn't been part of her former life. Perhaps it would've come up eventually — perhaps Bhreac and Eshe would've left home, even without the additional impetus. 

Regardless, she wasn't sure how to respond to a comment like that, so she just wagged her tail for extra emphasis, and then listened as he introduced himself. She nodded immediately, glad to have a touchstone.

"I know Mordecai," Bhreac said. "I'm joining his pack — you will as well, if you're his relative?" Bhreac asked, although she'd met multiple wolves who seemed to have far less fond a regard for their families as she did. It only seemed natural, to her, that if you had family, you would stay near them. "I'm Bhreac Endore," she added, "aspiring swamp thing."