Greatwater Lake Vann

It was not pity that overcame him, but something else. The woman was desperate and it was not a becoming thing to witness. She had openly risked herself, hoping to suffer the consequences of her carelessness. Jörmungandr was not in the business of granting wishes. He looked down on the taint that ruined her coat - the streak of pale fur that hinted at her muddied blood. It was shameful that the white-furred ones had spread their lines so far. 

The woman’s family did not care. 

Make them. 

The dark wolf’s voice was cold. She could waste her life crying into the dark, or she could make something of the blood and bones she had been born into. Tainted as she was, the culture of the wolves in the lands they roamed would allow for anything. She had only herself to blame if she failed.