Neverwinter Forest can you ever really know?

Everything happened at once; more Neverwinter Forest members assembled, her condition was revealed, and conflict arose. 

"Ye season. Comes for us all, I’m afraid." Belharra releaved, and for a moment, she stared at the other wolf with her eyes wide and mouth agape. "Oh..." Clover trailed in reply once it dawned on her, suddenly aware of the predicament she was in. "Fuck." Putting two and two together, it suddenly all made sense. 

Vallkyrie and Atausiq's arrivals occurred at the apex of Clover's panicking, and she regarded them meekly. Clover was still reeling from Belharra's intel; her breaths came quickly, despite her best efforts to calm herself. Clover knew she needed to get a grip before she ruined her chances of gaining acceptance into the pack. 

Just as Clover had mustered up the courage to speak again, Mal arrived. "Hi," she replied once he introduced himself; if this were a party, it would have been the worst party ever. "M'names Clover, and I just learned that I'm not going to die." Smooth—she swallowed her pride at her initial remark, continuing her mess of a preamble. "I'd like to join your pack. I can hunt and...." Clover blanked then, awkwardly shifting her weight as she attempted to recollect her thoughts.

"... I'm in heat." Good one, Clo; she was a living, breathing trainwreck.