Moonspear As if you knew who I am, as if you knew my name

While Raleska's gaze pressed Dirge for answers, more wolves arrived at the scene. The first was in the mountain's upbringing; a tall, sportive yearling near Nieve or Reyes' age. Raleska spared him only a minute inspection, for what came next was a wolf with such arrestive bearing she nearly assumed it to be their leader -- up until the calllous, brusque delivery of Dacio's demise.

What kind of pack -- or person -- was this that could deliver news of a packmate's death without even flinching? A soft gasp left Raleska's lips, and she beat herself internally for it -- it was likely the reaction this wolven piece of obsidian wished.

Surely this was a joke. He couldn't be -- she looked to Dirge and saw truth in his somber gaze she wished she had never beheld. His countenance was every bit as genuine as Lyra's was sharpened like a cut of calcite. For half a second Raleska was tempted to lie - to say yes, she was his kru -- but it would avail none of them if she did so.

"No." Raleska answered, almost opting for the same brusque delivery Lyra had employed. 'I'm the girl he fucked'  had such a rude ring to it. Her stomach dropped -- they had been a far cry from an established couple, but even then she felt the fraying edges of grief nip her. She forgot all about her warpath in the face of his demise. "Did he suffer?"