Grouse Thicket A black fly in your chardonnay.

"Providence," Wraen remarked to herself quietly, listening to the girl's adventurous journey to these shores. She briefly thought about the family Minerva had left behind and how her disappearance must have caused a reason to worry. But come to think of it, perhaps, the gods had known, what they were doing, when they had swept the girl away. An island was a trap no matter, how huge. In long term the girl had better chances to fulfill her purpose here than anywhere else and, if all went well, live to see her new tribe flourish. 

Wraen was tempted to offer the stranger a place among her own family, but decided against it. Were it not for the number of kids they had there, things would be different, now anything she would say in favour to Firebirds would seem as if she was seeking for manpower to manage a bunch of children that weren't their own. Maybe it was a too critical thinking and maybe she was simply tired to see all the good points about Wildfire's dream. 

"There are quite a lot of packs in the vicinity of the coast and further inlands. If you are in need for a home during winter - I think that no one would turn away an able adult wolf," Wraen suggested diplomatically. "You will get to know people, perhaps, you will even meet someone, who knows, how to get you back to your island," she went on, playing out a "what if I were you" scenarion in her mind. "Or find suitable land and like-minded people to start a tribe of your own. Many wolves have started like this before you."