Broken Antler Fen Flawless.

Blackhead made his skin crawl and ruffled his feathers like no other could ever be capable, and the strong possibility that she may be lurking in the shadows had him on edge. With a deep frown he considered rallying the kru in days to come, share with them the knowledge of their enemy, encourage them to strengthen their guard. Each and every one of Roangeda's wolves worked tirelessly, but efforts would need to be increased if they wanted to stand a chance against Rusalka's sea witch.

"I know nothing of Easthollow," the silver Klikalida answered, loathe to admit that he'd lived a sheltered life on Drageda's cliffs. A guardian, Dacio found little need to venture beyond their territory and he did not acknowledge the local packs (if there even were any) besides the one that set camp directly up their ass. "Blackhead could be right about Verx, but I don't think there's any truth behind that claim. It might be worth a visit, hear what they have to say. They may be willing to help us." 

Dacio rolled a shoulder, unsure if his young charge would appreciate the suggestion that they approach this unknown pack without assault. He could appreciate her fury for Vercingetorix' assumed death, for he'd experienced it himself at her age - but there was more to being a commander than rushing in with one's assumptions.