Dawnlark Plains trying for years to flee

the she-wolf seemed poised to speak, and mona prepared to answer, before a well-formed man the color of rain joined them. it was not his build, nor his dominant stance, that drew the girl's eye — she gave a small, worried squeak before she could help herself. "oh! your nose —!" shame tugged her features into a horrified expression; the girl glanced between the pair of leaders, wishing she could sink into herself.
the man not only had a bloody nose, but was missing an eye. wondering desperately what had happened, mona tried to gather her wits. "uh, i'm mona. mayfair. mayfair ... i'm lasher's daughter?" the girl went on, hoping her ramble would bring some sort of recognition from the two. "i'm just ... wanting to know about ... him." awkward.