None of these creatures were her friends, her allies. They were each too wild by comparison, with their proximity making the fur along her spine begin to prickle. Arkham watched them. She did not drift any closer because of the instinctual need for space that pervaded her mind; instead, she observed and made mental notes. The wolves seemed to be set in to a concentrated silence around Majesty, and while he spoke, Ark's attention drifted. The words meant little to the new arrival.
The mention of rivals piqued her interest though. If there were more packs in the area then she would have to be on the lookout; this land was indeed wild, and not a place she felt comfortable. The comments the beast made about some lady named Erika went in one ear... And out the other without so much as a chuff of recognition. The others in the group seemed adamant about the news, though. A few spoke up boldly, challenging what the leader had said. Ark huffed softly at the entire situation: to her, none of it was that important.
The hybrid's attention waned from the gathering. While her ears were perked and positioned ahead of her, towards the wolves, the rest of her began to drift. She looked to the birds in the trees, the clouds overhead, the path behind her which had been so troublesome for her weakened body—and gradually, Arkham's boredom became too great to manage. She began to slip away from them, slowly striding through the trees once more and away from the meeting.