Blackfeather Woods Let my eyes be the rhythm

"The mountain pack," she started when Wintersbane appeared, "I must've got too close. But when they attacked me I was on neutral territory." Her eyes turned between the two, letting a lighter pack fall to reveal a ghastly slice under her right eye that had bled to stain her fur, mixing with the colour of her muzzle. Other cuts splattered across her face, oozing still as she moved; her muzzle was painted with Revui's blood.  "They had no right for this, I had done naught to provoke them,"  her sullenness, mixed with feline anger, was evident. She turned her head back to the shadows, satisfied that she should come across more genuine from her words.
It was, after all, the truth.

A pause.
"They wanted information. I gave them nothing. They have a young mercenary in training with the bloodlust of a lion." Her eyes tilted to Wintersbane, the soft glint showed why her attention turned to him; to find his reaction. "One of their numbers came here, looking for the captive. I fought him, made him leave." Her eyes slid back to Relmyna, collecting herself for what would come next, then she'd talk about organising a hunt. It was important, but the safety would come first.