Swiftcurrent Creek I know what I like and you're the only one of you

Wylla would never admit it, but Cerulean was a breath of fresh air after months with only her sarcastic dam and daughter for company. She launched directly into a seeming-unrelated tangent only to mention that whoever she was talking about once led the pack here. The mention of Swiftcurrent Creek's former pack sent a queer, fluttering feeling through Wylla's belly that deepened her frown.

It wasn't that she missed them. She missed precious few wolves, her brothers among them in spite of Lycaon's betrayal. It just felt weird to think of them and realize she hadn't spared many thoughts at all for their well-being in the interim. You mean Constantine? she asked, grimacing. She'd respected that man, once. She hadn't really lost her respect for him, either, but she'd left Swiftcurrent Creek for a number of reasons.

He wasn't a very attentive leader, being high among them. Better than his mate, though. Not a bad guy, but Swiftcurrent Creek was doomed the moment that the pair of them spent more time arguing or being moody than actually leading. In light of this judgment, she had to laugh, a high and largely mirthless chirrup, when Ibis offered her a home. Kid, she said, because it was a natural thing for Wylla to consider anyone younger than her a child, you don't know me at all, and I don't know you. I don't make a habit of going home with strangers. Her gaze cut across the cream she-wolf judgmentally, then came to rest on a point between her ears. You ought to learn that lesson quick, before someone takes your pretty little ass home with poor intentions.