Blackwater Islands thorns

Nyra listened as Morgana spoke, that all wolves who came here came for a larger purpose. 
She shrugged softly at this and ghosted a warrior's smile at the question. 

"I have found enemies in the form of fellow wolf, in bear, and cat." She answered, gesturing with a paw to her face and a shrug of her shoulders as she mentioned the cougar. 
"It was a cat I faced alone, and gained most of my bigger scars from. The warpaint over my face, the battle-cloak over my shoulders into my chest, and over my hips into my legs. The bear I faced a year ago with my former pack. And wolves I have faced both alone and with brothers in arms." Nyra added, telling a brief tale of her life over the past couple years. 
She missed the Saints and their might dearly, and hope smouldered in her core to bring it all back to life. 

And for the first time in a while, she thought of them, of Arlette. Dear Arlette...her and her pups, lost with no trace. Kynareth and Simmik, gone to the wind. Many faces, gone. 
Few, still present. 

She tucked the memories back into her chest armor-plate, gaze still upon the Speaker.