Ankyra Sound to live and die by the sword

He doesn't attack her, good. Perhaps this can be a--well, not a good meeting, but one that ends in less bloodshed. The last encounter was distasteful, and a small part of her who was her father's daughter felt horrible that there had been a fight and she had hurt him as he had hurt her. And yet another part of her, the part who believed in queens and gods and feminity, refused to cowl to any man, especially one such as this. Perhaps if a wolf with Kingly air and traits came along, she may bow her head a little. She did not believe herself a queen no, she had known a queen, her auntie had been one and she was everything Ash was not, demure and kind to all an any, selfless, Ash paw was not self-less, and nor was she demure. She was kind to only those that were kind to her.

Ash paw settled tensely to her haunches. She looks reposed, but deep inside she is screaming at herself not to sit, to move, to stay further away. The scar on her nose gives a phantom pain and she twitches once despite herself. But she calms enough to speak.

Last time we met. She licked along her muzzle. You spoke of your druids. I am interested in this, and them. What are they? And why did they l leave?

A part of her, the immature part, wanted to ask if it were because he was a jerk. But she knew that would end in more bloodshed and she was determined to have a better meeting this time.