Kildeer Rest bury the hatchet; bury a friend

well, this is new. her brow quirks a fraction, the only visible sign of her disbelief she allows slip through her mask. blackfeather did not seem the type of pack to simply disband; like a plague, or a resistant strain of mold, it was always a dark blotch on the flatlands. she doubts for a second his words; but it is an odd thing to lie about seeing as she could simply cross the mountains and see their territory for herself, if she so wished. so she accepts his word a moment later, gaze drifting from his shoulder. 

"blood and fear," she echoes, the words soft on her tongue, and for a second she wonders if she truly spoke them aloud. "the Wilds are better off than, for it." she doubted that they'd stay down, though. she isn't sure if she believes the I was, but wonders if this is merely paranoia. still, her doubts have kept her alive thus far. she knows not all the brothers were child-killing lunatics, but they were all certianly dangerous. "and now?" she asks, for the mark is fresh and the man's scent is not the only one on his pelt.