Lake Rodney Kill Wanheda, and you command death.

Ah, there it was: an inkling of distrust. It was something Dacio liked to see, considering how openly she shared with him - a stranger - the location of her kru and her relation to a traitor. He lifted his chin a little, grey-green eyes sharp on her as he found her own of pale silver; Praimfaya was sure to resemble her sire, he pondered as he studied her pale features, for she looked nothing like the Eske he remembered. "If I considered you natrona," he started coolly, "you would not be alive."

It was the way of their kind, he was sure she'd appreciate. Surely her mother would not have failed to teach her that snippet of information, considering she'd taught her so much of where she had come from. "Your mother, Verx and Aure abandoned Drageda when we needed them most," he told the bold Wanheda, "and the pack fell soon after their departure. My sister and I remained with the hope to train an army so that we might take back our home, but the enemy was too strong and not enough supported the cause."

He rolled a shoulder, shameful to have had to acknowledge when the time came to shelf the budding Stegeda yet proud to admit that he and Opalia were the only ones who truly tried to make an effort.