Greatwater Lake coulda died right then

YAAAASSSSSSSSSS

there comes a scent through the rain that ought to set every hair on her pelt bristling. the itch of an enemy never vanquished, or destroyed, or beaten soundly. one that might not have ever been her enemy; should she have chosen differently so long ago. these memories and these scars ought to have her bristling. but they do not, rather, it is with a quiet coolness that she turns to face the woman, the assassin, the wraith, Nemesis. 

"Hm." she offers, as if thoughtful. "Perhaps."  her gaze slips over the carcas between them, rapidly cooling, so alive moments ignored, now ignored and cold. The woman is familiar - has she put on a little weight? - the same, more or less, than she was months ago. "Blackfeather still stands then? I had surely thought you lot would have killed each other by now." she mused, almost thoughtfully, regarding the woman with a curious tilt of her head, representing curiosity that she does not feel. She feels little but contempt, and the slightest feeling that she just might have missed out on something when she chose to follow Burke. "Know, Nemesis, that those you overthrew are - lost, dead, gone, I do not know." She did not know if the information would give her any satisfaction, but she was indeed curious to know just how long Nemesis's grudges lasted.