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It seemed as though Fox was somewhat of a legend. Still a few months shy of two years old, that felt like quite an accomplishment. The young thrice-alpha smirked at The Sunspire wolf, amused that she had become some kind of fairytale that mothers told their children at night. “So you’ve come to see the Big Bad Wolf,” Fox replied. “I’m afraid I’ve already disappointed you by failing to be big.” The Redleaf-DiSarinno was a small creature, many pounds under the weight of the average wolf. Whether or not she was "bad" was up to debate, although she was most certainly a wolf (despite her name).

“So what kind of stories have they been cooking up about me, hm?” she asked. Ferdie and Jace had likely painted a picture of some terrible monster who rabidly went around biting through the throats of every wolf she encountered. The truth was far from that, of course, but she wanted to hear what delicious lies they were telling, first. It no doubt started as an exaggeration and slowly snowballed into a rancid tale of the evil witch of the west. That seemed to be the way things were going with Peregrine's children, at least, and she had barely even known them.