Wheeling Gull Isle Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

The sea wind cut through the wet fur on her legs and sank icy teeth into her flesh. Wylla immediately regretted making her way out to this blasted rock. She should have made the Empress cross the sand bridge to meet her so she could see for herself if arrogance ruled this one the way it did Ramesses. She thought it was the least she could ask of any Alpha to do a little legwork in exchange for the services of not one, but two wolves.

Interesting how quickly her ideals changed without her noticing when she was the subordinate rather than the leader.

The wolf who approached wasn't much bigger than her, if at all, and carried herself with a self-assured bearing that Wylla was glad to see lacked a certain pomp. She was momentarily baffled. Wylla had been expecting a very different sort of wolf to call themselves something as over the top as Empress, but this Huā Jiāng didn't seem all that much different than her, and certainly a lot older than the arrogant blue-eyed boy who had brought Wylla's attention to the isle. That was enough for her to relax her stance to one more suited to an outsider meeting a pack leader on their turf, with her tail pressed politely downward, ears to the sides, and gaze averted. The distant Stag and Maegi both went unnoticed.

You, she said, in a tone coloured with a noticeable amount of disbelief, are the Empress?