Grouse Thicket A black fly in your chardonnay.

Wraen felt both flattered and a little surprised by the sudden burst of inspiration in the greyscale female. Young wolves in her experience did not like to listen at lengthy lectures and, if they did, their expressions usually were of eye-rolling and expressive sighs. This stranger, on the other hand, having been washed up on the shores recently and still quite disoriented soaked up her wisdom as a sponge. Which made her suddenly feel responsible for her words. Disappointments awaited Minerva - there was no doubt - but Wraen sincerely wished her success as well.

"I haven't travelled East myself in a very long time, therefore I do not know, if packs I knew by name then still exist there now," she tried to remember the map of the wilds, but it had grown blurry and fuzzy from disuse. She could not give Minerva any other information than names. "Just beyond this mountain range," she beckoned in the general direction of, where Moonspear's claim was, "there is a pack that call ciffs and hills their home. They are led by Hydra and her family. They are proud, territorial and might not look kindly upon strangers."

There were fine points about Charon's legacy as well, but she felt it better to prepare the stranger for the worst. Ostregas were like bees - you never knew for sure. "And in the valley south from them, there lies  a forest, where wolves live, who worship gods of... darkness and evil. They have caused trouble in their time, even a war," she described Blackfeather woods from bits and details she had picked up. "There are few - there might be less now - packs along the coast as well. One was called... Drageda, I think, and they spoke their own language had quite a battle-ready upbringing," she shared, what Wildfire and Sequoia had told her in their time. 

"I recall that in my mother's youth - she lived here as well - there was a pack that worshipped gods of Northern origin and there were others, who had a whole religion built around the sacred bears Sos and Atka, I think," it was clear that these were no longer Wraen's memories, but someone else's. She could not repeat them just as easily and flawlessly as she could her own. "Never met them myself, but - be warned - all kinds of people live here," she concluded her lengthy monologue.

"Just, before you go - could you share, what was your tribe like? Do you have a deity that look after you as well?" she asked, never missing an opportunity to add another story to her collection. But the girl seemed to be in a hurry and Wraen did not get to hear a new story that day.