Silvertip Mountain pikpaksriruk ∅

That brief moment of sympathy that Wraen had felt for the white ghost was shattered completely by the next passage of her speech, to which she listened in stunned silence. A small voice in her head told her not to let Kukutux's words strike her directly, but insult after insult came like a wave that crashed against and over the walls of defense she had built. The woman was crazy - this conclusion did not let her to lose her footing altogether - and, even though you should ignore, what madmen say, it does not mean it hurts any less. 

She was taken aback not so much by the self-entitlement of this woman, who claimed to be Arcturus's dear friend and lover, but the fact that such a beautiful creature could use so ugly words to tarnish and soil everything that Wraen had cherished in her relationship with Moonspearan. Had she been so naive and stupid all along? Was she a mere plaything to her friend - an entertainement, until something better came along? She did not wish to believe it, yet the damage had already been done. A seed of doubt was planted by the clever words of the madwoman. 

By the end of the girl's talk, Wraen's expression was twisted by anger and disgust. Beast within her raised its ugly head and growled in anticipation. The pain within her was so intense that it was almost unbearable and suddenly the only thing she wished was to silence the Moonspear girl. Rip her throat out so that no more ugly words and assumptions and insults escaped her lips, tear and claw that pretty face beyond recognition, crush that dark heart of hers so that it would stop pushing that venomous blood, which had poisoned every single thing that she had found joy in, had been proud of, had loved.

She froze, pupils dilated, ears drawn back in rage, claws dug deep in the snow as she fought against the Beast. It was there, it was strong, it rattled the chains, it howled in agony. Let me go, let me go, let me go! Wraen knew very well at that moment that, if she gave in just for an inch, she would lose it. She would kill mercilessly. But was this bitch worth it? Would that change things? No. It would probably make them worse. So, with every bit of self-control she could muster, she tried to calm down, remember to breathe and coax that Beast back, where it belonged. 

"The place I grew up," she said slowly and carefully choosing the words, "raised girls to be strong-willed, independent and tough. They were valued and cherished for, who they were." Somehow thinking about her mother and grandmother, Towhee came to her mind too - gave her strength to raise up from, where she had been beaten down earlier. "They were encouraged to fight for their own way in life," she added, thought about Niamh. Traditionalist she may be, but she would never let a pathetic thing like this walk over her. "They bow to no men," she went on.

"And they have a name for women like you too," she locked her gaze with the ghost's. "Whores of mind and body," she said. "I do not have to live up to expectations of a weak-willed woman, whose only definition is given by the man, who mounts her."