Fox's Glade mellon collie and the infinite sadness

The woman's answer is brief, and not as welcoming as Keen might have liked. Her teeth clench together painfully, but she manages to part them long enough to give her own answer. I'm Keen. Valette is my mother, She explains, wondering if the association will draw something a bit more polite from the stranger. But part of her doesn't really care, truthfully; she has already decided that this woman, whoever she is, is rude — and certainly not worthy of walking among her family as one of their own. The thought reminds her of another wolf, equally unworthy yet there, infuriatingly, while she remains an outsider. She wonders, suddenly, if this stranger is close to that wolf. It would be fitting. Do you know Greyback?