Falls of the Hinterlands Do you doubt it's yours?

Nyra rn 

This lady pretty clearly wanted to bury Donovan. It was pretty obvious by the way her gaze ignited with loathing the second Kynareth appeared in her sights. Dually obvious by the venom in her voice. 
Pretty stupid of you to show your face to me, she says to the Grandmaster. Nyra snorted, a barely audible yet sharp sound. 
By Kynareth's words, these two were pretty far from home. If Donovan were stupid in the manner this jalapeno she-wolf seemed to imply...he would've shown his face to her far closer to her own territory. 
But, this was not the case. 
Simmik and Vallkyrie were close to the Saint's claim, not the other way around. Not just that, but Kynareth didn't seem the type to avoid someone so close to his territory just because said someone hated him, was mad at him, whatever. 
As far as Nyra had concluded, he wasn't the type of wolf to do that at all. 

Then, Nyra's mirror image directed a question at her. "You do know your leader is a rapist, right?" 

Hold up.
Rewind. 
He's a WHAT?! 

At Simmik's question, Nyra stiffened with obvious shock and disbelief. 
Sure, she knew Donovan was battle-hardened, bloodthirsty, deranged even, among other things, but...a rapist? 
That didn't seem like something Kynareth would do. 
The onslaught of distrust was hard-hitting and sudden, most of all - obvious - as Nyra moved one or two inches away from her Grandmaster as she turned her own hellion inferno gaze to look at him. She's about to ask if it's true, but the question doesn't have time to leave her lips.
Her own thoughts and assault of emotions is short-lived. 

The tables are turned like lightning as Kynareth confronts the smaller palefur with obvious betrayal and hurt. He weaves his words with briars, dipped and gleaming in acidic poison. 
Truthfully, Nyra doesn't recall a time she's ever seen the Grandmaster this livid. The vile, horrific picture he paints for Simmik and her friend...
Amazingly enough, the Shieldmaiden is unbothered by Donovan's serpentine words. However, as he points the promise of death at Simmik like a blade to the throat of an enemy, Nyra seamlessly prowls forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with her Grandmaster, teeth fully bared in a snarl while a loud, guttural growl ripped through the air from her chest. In this moment, her killing intent matched his own. 

Amazingly enough, for once Nyra had stayed completely silent as far as her voice was concerned. But the message she lended aid to rang in big, bold letters...

LEAVE NOW, OR YOU. WILL. DIE.