Deepwood Weald I go my own way

He waited for an answer, and his brain buzzed with images of the various wolves he recalled of the Nightwalkers. Among them was Tzila, but she was here before him and did not carry herself like a queen. He thought of Black Hat, and then the medic who had dosed him on various occasions within the pit - finally, Vanity, but none of them had assumed the throne. As Tzila named the successor Revui's brow furrowed; he could not recall anyone by that name, and had likely never exchanged details with the girl in question. But the woman called them a child which could only result in two options: the girl who watched him in the pit, or the boy who had harassed Orochi during the escape.

...and now she expects us to fall in line like good little troops. Tzila betrayed her misgivings with the ease of her statement, the vitriol within the tone of her voice. Even Revui could catch the disinterest there, the lack of respect, and it made his spine bristle a little bit. No matter who ran the Nightwalker crew the leader was the leader; they demanded the respect of their lessers, and it did not sit well with Revui that anyone would be so resistant to the change.

He shrugs his broad shoulders. I do not know the name, he explains with a brooding, low voice. You do not think them worthy? He asks next - mostly rhetorical, considering how obvious Tzila's unhappiness was with the outcome. Anyone who could take down a behemoth like Vengeance deserved some respect. If she is not, then take her place. It was a simple solution, at least to him.