Northstar Vale warrior, with fire in her veins

unsurprising, praimfaya remarks coolly. was it worth reiterating what the girl had already come to learn? it wasn't wise to go sniffing around another pack's borders. what, pray tell, had the other girl thought was going to happen? a warm welcome? if she was looking for that then she had came knocking on the wrong pack's door, praimfaya thought; and everything felt more touchy and on edge since the basilisk's death despite the gargoyle's smooth and uncontested ascension ...but she wasn't about to go around admitting there had recently been a leader death and resulting from that: a power shift.

so, in lieu of protecting diaskru, praimfaya lets the conversation shift to the language that she's spoken in. i speak french and that wasn't french the girl tells her. it's called trigedasleng. but praimfaya doubts this stranger'll know about it as much as praimfaya knows about french: which is nothing. until today, she's never even heard the word before. i'm praimfaya. she offers her name after a few beats, awaiting the girl's own name in return.