The Sunspire he held my hands above my head and i commenced to pray

praimfaya listens with rapt attention as he recounts how he received his wounds; sounding eerily like her first encounter with the saints ...where nemisis and her had very nearly fought to their deaths. her lips pinch into a terse, contemplative line, tasting the yarrow all over again. it's an unpleasant taste ...or maybe perhaps she only finds it unpleasant because she doesn't really like flowers despite their proved usefulness. it tastes like pollen that feels like it's sticking to the back of her throat and coating her tongue.

he doesn't specific that the territory was unclaimed but praimfaya assumes as much, figuring that no wolf would be dense enough to trespass and then pee on a tree. that was just plain suicidal.

she blinks, doelike, as he tells her that it was two months ago. two months. for a moment, praimfaya struggles to wrap her mind around that; two months. you've been out here for two months? her voice rises, shimmering with outrage meant for their so-called grandmaster; solidifying what she always knew: she needed to take him down too.

right or wrong, praimfaya had a strong idea of what kind of leader she was, and thusly, what she expected in her leaders if she couldn't claim leadership for herself. leaving a member alone for two months: no search party, nothing ...was wrong. it sits ugly and festering in her chest; and then to hear that he publicly humiliated the injured male in front of her only adds venom to the wound. i'm sorry, she says, bowing her head. it is not her amend to make but as a "saint" she feels obligated to all the same.

no leader should let their injured packmate, especially not for two months and they certainly shouldn't humiliate them in front of another pack. her lip curls. it's piss poor leadership. but she suspected as much, hadn't she? seen it first hand. leaders are supposed to be the voice, the bastion of their pack. they look out for their kru first and foremost.

good words coming from the commander who'd left opalia ...but she'd learned from that. she was working on making amends and that had to mean more than her own mistakes. ...mistakes made as a child. she wasn't perfect but she was trying. donovan, she suspects, isn't even trying; and if he is it's only to see how many of his followers he could bed. what donovan and the saints did to you was wrong.