Neverwinter Forest My Fifty-Mission Cap

The tiniest hint of smile curved her lips at his reaction to the name of Donovan's pack. Now that he mentioned it, she did kind of wonder why they called themselves saints when they were unabashedly quite the opposite. He seemed to heed her warning, though, regardless of his poking fun at their name. Silly name or not, their members are not anyone you would want to be caught alone with, she added just to be sure he understood. Of course, this was based solely off the interaction with the woman who led at Donovan's side. But if she was a leader, Simmik hated to think what the other members of the pack were like. 

His question was only logical; she had warned him about a dangerous loner, so obviously Jackalope would want to know what he looked like. Bile rose in her throat again as her attacker's face took over her thoughts. She knew all too well what he looked like—she saw him in her nightmares and anytime her mind had time to wander. Still, she was unable to answer for a few moments as she tried to slow her racing heart and keep the panic from her face. When she did finally speak again, her voice was rough. He's white like me, larger, and has a brown streak on his nose. She had offered the same description to Mal when she told him what happened, and she hadn't spoken of the monster or what had happened since; she knew she would pay for this later, but she didn't want anyone else getting hurt, especially not those who were supposed to be under her protection.