Stavanger Bay The north wind blew, its head asunder

Nightshade listened quietly as the wounds were cleaned and combed from anything that the potential of infecting it. When the aloe was applied, she see!ed to relax a bit, though her eyes still hinted her wariness and alertness.

It was when it was explained that the wolf Nerian came from slave to wife of Ragnar that caused Nightshade to lightly grunt in slight displeasure. She prayed that she wasn't in this place for the same reasons(even though she had nothing to pray to, seeing as she didn't have any sort of religion). However, that was the least noticeable part of her reaction. Her expression turned from stone to sour faster than a set of traffic lights. She couldn't pinpoint the exact mirror image, but there was faint similarities between Neriuan's story... And her mothers.

She recalled her nightmare. That one memory of agony she was forced to play through every night. She hated it. She hated those wolves. She hated the wolf that took her parents away from her.

Does this alpha take what he wants as well?

The thought coursed through her. She didn't know the truth of Ragnar, that he had stopped his raiding, that he had only held her captive because he thought she was close, and that he didn't want to hurt her. But how was she to know that at this moment in time? Despite Thistle's reassurances, Nightshade's paranoia caused her spirit to flare, her defiance under a will not her own. There was fury in her eyes. Dangerous, unpredictable fury. But there was a hint of calm, a hint of reason that she always had. Nightshade wasn't so ignorant as to attack or retaliate outright, nor was she low enough to seek revenge.

She rebellious female just wanted out.

Nightshade merely muttered a thanks as the last of the dressings were put on. Her eyes were stormy, though not threatening. She would welcome Thistle if she wished to stay, but she wasn't best buddies with the lead healer just yet.