Gyrfalcon's Keep Would you just come home

"Once a prison, always a prison," Wylla stubbornly countered, but otherwise let the subject drop. The only things she did in life were for her own benefit. Without Ingram, there was no one for her to even want to share her successes with. She lived solely for herself, and believed that was the best—and only—way to live. She judged Wraen for her devotion to her pack, but kept it from her face, if only because the pack wolf had thus far been helpful and tolerant of her, two things Wylla almost never got.

"I tried to join a pack. They made me hunt something for them, then fed it to a bird and told me to get lost when I got mad about it." She grimaced, turning her head up to the sky as if seeking some answer there for that terrible injustice. She would probably hold that grudge for the rest of her days. "The next one had a leader young enough to be my kid," and so she shrugged against the snowbank, ignoring her own gross exaggeration there, and said, "would rather hoof it alone than live with pricks, y'know?"