Bramblepoint Lethal poison for the system

Wylla's eyes drifted between Galaxy and Hydra with a mixture of scrutiny and uncertainty. It wasn't too often that she voiced her dislike for those who lived the high life, mostly out of desperation. If she went around broadcasting her true feelings all the time, soon enough, it would come back to bite her. Her gaze hinged on Galaxy when the slim white she-wolf spoke up first, and immediately the loner's opinion of her began to climb. Galaxy got it. Being a lone wolf was worse than just being lonely or having a hard lifestyle, and there was nothing Wylla wanted more than recognition of that.

Hydra, on the other hand, grazed the point. While the attractive older wolf did state that she didn't look down specifically on lone wolves, which Wylla respected well enough, she didn't exude the same amount of understanding as Galaxy did and went on to assume that such a lifestyle was a decision she'd made. "Who said anything about choosing it?" she asked with a backward flick of her ears and simultaneous twitch of her tail.

"I never chose this life," she clarified, "I'm just not as lucky as some wolves." Her natal pack had splintered, as far as she knew, before she was old enough to understand what was happening. Her father had perished under uncertain circumstances and her mother, though attentive, was only one wolf. Her upbringing was hardly comfortable and hadn't afforded the same opportunities as Hydra's and Galaxy's evidently had. "The only thing I choose is to not live my life among wolves who think they're better than me just because they were luckier."

Panning her gaze back to Galaxy, Wylla carefully asked, "tell me about your pack?" Because if nothing else, if the pack had produced someone like this, then there was some hope that they were at least better than the last one.