Dawnlark Plains Stop, what the hell are you talking about?

She was surprised with Stjornuati's response, speaking of strength rather than the weakness she felt dragging at her soul. She wished she could feel even a fraction of what he imagined. If there was some part of her that believed she had made the right choice and that she would be better for having left, it was buried under a mountain of doubts and uncertainties and hurts.

Mahler's lilac-eyed stare flashed across her mind, impassive and unreadable. The belief that he did not care whether she stayed or left when he had been so torn up about allowing Nyx to go turned her nerves to ice.

She forced herself to focus on Stjornuati's voice, and so intent was she on that that at first, she didn't really understand the offer he made. A quiet drifted between them while her brain caught up with the conversation. When it did, her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed cautiously. You know nothing about me except that I led a pack and left it, she pointed out. You don't even know if I'm of any use to your cause. Why? More importantly, she had to know if the offer extended to Stag as well, and before she could even think of accepting, she needed to know if he was willing as well. She could not go where Stag was not comfortable going, or where he was not welcome. But if all those conditions were met...

The superficial similarities she drew between this cream-pelted northerner and Mahler were strong enough that it made her heart shudder with pain to think of following another man, but the pack was close enough to Nova Peak to allow her to visit her children, while remaining far enough that she need not cross her former lover's path, and the Rusalkans were further from this Watch than they were Sagtannet, too. Stjornuati valued strength of the soul, which was something Wylla also valued, although she'd let that slip a little in the past year. She could think of no reason to decline if everything else was agreed upon.