Verdant Basin as ye sow, so shall ye reep

Queenie needs more (friendly or not) spars for her mercenary trade!

There was something off. Wolves were disappearing, others were dying, while Queenie remained stagnant. It reminded her somewhat of her time spent as a child, watching people come in and out of her life with little to no hesitation, whether they had been there for years or for days.

The frustration that was building in Queenie needed to be released and another round of border patrol wouldn't cut it. Each step that she took away from the territory increased the ache in her bones — she needed to experience something new, something exciting. There was a certain bloodthirst that Queenie had always possessed but had been minimized with age. Now, it was making a steady return; she didn't care whose flesh it was, but she needed to tear into something.