Herbalists' Cache suffer well the aftermath

The stranger was well spoken. It did little to ease the tension in Seregryn's body though, and the language displayed across it became clear: she lowered her head slightly so that it was level with her shoulders, ears up and forward to listen to that voice, but the rest of her was rigid and firmly planted. If this wolf was going to forcibly remove her, she would have a fight on her hands. Lastly, her tail was hanging loose by her hocks, but was not swaying in a friendly manner. The girl's crimson gaze was locked on the stranger, practically challenging her with a direct stare, and she studied the interloper like a cat might study a bird.

Still, she said nothing. If this was one of her own kind, she would know — or there would be a clue — but so far, this stranger was only an outsider to her. No outsider was worthy of hearing the voice of a future Commander. If Seregryn was thinking properly, she would have done some reconnaissance — perhaps used her nose, or gotten her head out of her own ass long enough to realize this wolf was of the Sleeping Dragon. Thought she did not know of the pack or the land, she would know of her family - and Thuringwethil was well liked among her kin.