Boartusk Heights fear cuts deeper than swords

Nyra nodded at Jupiter's first words, pausing hesitantly, uncertainty laced across her saddening features as she spoke again "I...don't know." She sighed in defeat, looking toward the Strath down below across the valley "There is a pack far to the East that I'm pretty sure we will be fighting against sometime within the next year. Theirs is about the size of the Saints last I knew, but...I personally think it'd be best for us to lie low much longer than I think Kynareth will tolerate." 
Nyra was obviously conflicted somehow. 
"The future of the Saints is uncertain. Especially given the packs who don't like us. But..." She looked back to the Strath again, "I want better for them. Most of our numbers haven't done as many bad things as our Grandmaster. If I had the confidence in myself...I would challenge him. Or even try to form my own pack..." She exhaled sharply. 
Nyra knew her answer wasn't exactly direct or even blunt, but as she looked to Jupiter again, deep within her dry-ice burning gaze she wanted her fellow warrior to find a better home.