Hushed Willows Follow the Pale Moonlight

As soon as the words left her mouth, as soon as she saw what they did to the other she-wolf, Celara felt guilt. It began to weigh down on her when she heard her response, the words carrying such disbelieving grief. Celara ought to have been more tactful, she should have been less suspicious- she pushed down these thoughts as they came. She could not have known, and she had said what she had said. It could not be taken back now. 

This did not help with the shame, however. As the other she-wolf bent her head, Celara did so as well. First out of respect, for her loss, but then her own grief began to well up. For the passing of the wolf she had only spoken to rarely, who had accepted her in so easily, who had always been so kind the few times they had talk. For the death of the Empire she had lived in for half a year, where she had been welcomed in as a newcomer, without fear or bitterness.
Silently, without tears, the grey runaway began to weep.