Barrow Fields once there was a queen named gioma

Not particularly nice, no.  It still stung a little, the defeat at least (not so much the betrayal, as they had never been friends), but not so much that she couldn't laugh about it.  She liked where she had ended up now just fine.

"Ironsea.  No worries there, we keep to our own strand.  Not really the pillaging type." Not yet at least.  She wondered if Smokestep intended to raid any of the nearby lands at any point; she'd always preferred to get her own resources, but sometimes had led her wolves against another pack for pure sport.  A good crew on crew squabble could be mighty fine entertainment, but was far more fun when the stakes were low.  She got the sense that wouldn't be the case around here; wolves didn't seem quite so easy about their claims as the south, where moving was a regular thing.