The Sentinels new worlds built from ashes

truly, deirdre was exhausted. for a long time she had been alone--and the very moment her words were twisted and manipulated was the instant this started. emaleth had returned, though had been elusive and left once more. were she to know her brothers thoughts on her own past words meant that she did not wish donnelaith to have its own guardians she would have perhaps been able to fix the error; her only wish was that the wolves within donnelaith did not became warriors, fighters. there was no war at all to fight, they were pacisfists; the wolves of the bay had taken as much care of her as her own family had. deirdre would protect her own, as lasher once had and expected no other beneath him to. many had disagreed with him, but none had abandond him. and the bay, she believed, would not abandon her for her errors. she was young--she would make plenty more. or perhaps she would not make it through this winter--that was for no mayfair to be certain of, as each had gone their own way, leaving her to lead alone this winter this young. success was not at all a guarantee, and already she was fatigued. 

and so his question was met with a transparent, no, and she sighed lightly. for all of my instinct, i am not certain of how i--we--will survive this winter. i have never faced it before. the wolves of the bay will aid us, at least, and she could not leave this place, but could she fault any other for doing so? her own family had seen it fit to do so. deirdre's doubts were created by those she loved the most. deirdre licked her chops. i am glad eilidh is with you. i wish you had never left, she wished to say. but his alliance with aria was greater than his affinity toward her, and she would never blame him for that--she loved aria dearly, and could never pretend otherwise. donnelaith was wholly its own entity, a crown jewel within the alliance untouched and unsullied; she, and her loved ones, practiced their craft as they would.