Kintla Flatlands But what happens when the raven's wings break, mother?

Ink was still wary, but relaxed her shoulders a bit when the woman sat down. Good, no fighting today. The question was peculiar, almost friendly, but in a monotone voice. Ink was convinced that she could still be a threat. "Rough life." she answered, her slightly raspy voice complimented by rich deep tones. she blinked softly, gazing over the female. Hesitantly, she sat down, ears perked alertly. She rested on her bad side gingerly, making sure not to put to much pressure on her battle wound. "To whom are you loyal? You smell like that of many a wolf." her sharp silver eyes matched the gaze of hers, and she yawned. Who was this femme?