Sun Mote Copse among the trees

Wraen was usually outgoing and liked people, but even social-butterflies can get very tired. And after Firebirds had acquired six (possibly seven) new faces in a short span of time, the Sovereign found that she had no capacity of meeting each of them personally and talking to get to know them better. Maybe next week she would feel like doing it, but now was not a good time at all. One can easily imagine that she was not too thrilled to meet yet another person, who wished to join their ranks. Though the statistics board said that they still had room, Wraen thought that there was more than enough of people already.

She came face to face with an unfamiliar white she-wolf, who looked as if she had travelled for a while, and bore no tell-tale signs of belonging either to Blackthorns or Towhees, which would render any discussion about joining useless. They would always have a place, because they had the right connections. If Wraen herself had not been guilty of accepting family members in the ranks, then she would have protested that it was not fair. Now, however, she simply slide and let things happen.

"You called?" she asked politely to the stranger before her.