Dragoncrest Cliffs jus drein jus daun

She ought to feel angry. Yes, that was it, the thing that was missing, the anger that the rest of the pack surely felt. Wildfire had been taken, been hurt, by another pack, and she ought to hate them all for it. She supposed on some level he did, but the anger was outweighed by an emotion akin to dread. Drageda would - had - raised an army, and now they marched on Blackfeather. She knew the nature of her pack, knew it's strength, for she had been born in it, lived in it. But true and total war she had not expected, not the anger and the hate and Blackfeather. 

She was silent as Heda announced the fighting party, gaze shifting briefly to Blixen as her name was called. She would go; and once again Dalia felt as if she were wrong, delayed. Her cousin would go to fight, feel the fury of war and fight well, while she stayed at home, unable to even grasp the magnitude of war. She blinked, turning away to set her gaze onto her father, trying for a smile of encouragement that ended up looking a little more like a grimace.