Grouse Thicket calling the inquisition

Ikkalrok had not been in hiding; she had been in plain sight. Big? Yes. Sneaky? Not the wolves with her; these were the offensive front, the beserkers. The wolves that went for the kill. There was no hint of amusement on her features after the other broke the silence; this was not the first loudmouthed wolf that had decided and chosen to become a part of them, and there was nothing unique about the situation that presented itself before Ikkalrok. Her dark gaze held the flame as she considered things for a moment. 

Sort of. Anneriwok, then. The lack of confidence confirmed as much, and that was deduced even with the ample amount the lit match had brought with her. Are you? comes her deep voice, rough and worn with disuse. There was no expectancy to her tone, or even in her gaze; the question was pointed. Were they still becoming? Or had they decided it was not the life they wished for themselves? In asking as much, she presented Ikkuma with her reason for coming: for this answer, firstly.