Bearclaw Valley a gentle gossamer wing

indra's ears had been fixed in poet's direction, though one did pull askance at the mention of laurel. sif was another name she recognized (and had a fondness for) though wardruna was not. she had yet to meet the male that carried both as his companions -- and she remained blissfully unaware of the nature of their union.

indra caught a slight drop in the woman's tone, as if she were confiding some great secret to the redleaf girl. her amber gaze lifts and she holds poet's face in her vision for a moment before turning away. a similar grimace sprouted on her own lips - she was no stranger to the difficulties of communal living. she was not sure what poet meant by her words - particularly a 'pack of this kind' -- but took no offense in it.

"i only know a few. i'm not very good either." indra admitted, though inwardly she believed it was not her fault (or laurel's, for that matter) that her most recent interactions with a certain packmate had been unsavory. not wanting to elaborate on why she wasn't very good, the girl quickly vied to change the subject. "what do you mean a pack of this kind? are other packs different?"