Phoenix Maplewood 'you were,' my dear, is the saddest sentence left to say

Sangilak's ear twitched and she followed the others lead. When they move past the borders, Sangilak thinks nothing of it at all; this was war. She simply wondered what Thuringwethil planned after; would she take over the Phoenix lands, to ensure they would not return? Her eyes trace the scenery around her with disinterest. Forests had never spoken to her as mountains had, but she saw their use. Hunting was good in these territories. Still, the land seemed quiet, too quiet. Sangilak was on full alert, but at ease; she excelled in warcraft. She moved close to Tatkret, though was watchful of Hush and the others that had come with them this day. 

Thuringwethil saw it fit to separate the two wolves who knew how to work in tandem to one another. She questioned the tactic as she glanced to Hush; she knew little of his tactics, and he likely knew less of her own. Still, Sangilak was content to assist him as she could. She gestured to her side and gave Tatkret a departing nip before she set off in the direction that Thuringwethil would have her and Hush go in. She grunted to the pale wolf, a lets move suggested in the sound. 

Moving in that direction, Sangilak was sure-footed and stalwart, heeding her surroundings with the utmost care. Her nose flared and her ears were veritable saucers atop her head, but the quiet remained. It was like the place had been left behind, and Sangilak wrinkled her lip at the thought at not getting what they had come for: a fight. She craved bloodshed, anticipated it; to be left wanting was not how she wanted this to end. Drageda had come and would receive their certain victory, one way or another. Sangilak listened and watched Hush, too, alert to the nuances of his movements that might betray he had noted something of worth.