King Elk Forest He is not one of us.

Another call from her kind, Celnes, more specifically. This time it would not be for celebration however for as she arrivals (be it one of the larger arrivals) the air is tense. Atop their perch, Odessa comes to rest old bones down in a sit just under where she was fit to sit along with Calhoun. Yet, he does not. She searches the small crowd, finding him oddly to the back, a hardened expression on his face. Bright yellow eyes cast to her King and, as starkly standing out among them, a solid white wolf. 

Odessa is shocked, so much so she begins another one of her smoky coughing fits. When she comes too, eyes fall away from her Kings and onto the accursed. She snarled, a bellowed growl deep from her as her tongue flicked out in a spat. Kingslend was surely falling to ruin if he were to stay.