Firefly Glen The Witching Hour

At times, Tzila wished she could just find someone who would understand. Someone who could relate to her. But in this world that seemed to be too much to ask for. The curl of her lips turned into a humorous little smile. Abbadon had said something that struck her. "Mmn, maybe. In that regard." Perhaps she knew something he didn't. Despite their differing views, she did not find herself turning away to end their conversation. Or to lunge forth, lashing out to unleash her pent-up frustration. Instead she stayed, curious of this young man who carried his father’s blood in his veins.

"I have considered it. Thought about challenging long before Vengeance was dead." She tipped her head to the side, seemingly confident in her reasoning. "But this is Nightwalkers. I am fairly certain that if I challenge and won, I too, would soon be challenged. I also don't feel I have enough solid connections within to support my standing of such a status for long." Her face hardened severely for a split second. "And I've had more than my fair share of being outshined and humiliated in my young life." Her thudding heart began to return to its normal pace again as her nerves settled. "But that is beside the point. I don't want her rank that badly. It is not my pack...not something that I have built. I was never much of a team player anyways. I never once swore my loyalty."