Nova Peak If you must mourn, don't do it alone

I dunno if he would have, she disagreed. Mahler had an extremely unfortunate habit of only seeing what he wanted to see in others. While Wylla was just as guilty of bias, she suspected that Zarya would've continued to play Mahler like a fiddle, dancing through the ranks without regard for anything, and she suspected her fellow Eisen would've let her. Maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit, but she already felt like he let a lot of things slide that she wouldn't, just because of his big, dumb heart.

She listened while Stag grappled with the fact that most of their kind were fickle, grimacing. She had the same opinion about wolves in general. She hadn't lived in a proper pack structure for most of her life—Grimnismal and Swiftcurrent were but brief flickers next to the time she'd spent either in Keokuk Glade or alone—but even she understood loyalty, and despaired at how rare it seemed to be.

Some wolves are just shitty, she said, again thinking of Tiercel and swallowing the burning sensation that clawed suddenly up from her belly. No, she didn't truly think that of her firstborn, but she had left, too. Gone with the wind and got herself in trouble and pointed the finger back at the mother she'd left behind. Some want power and can't get it easily here. Some just don't jive with the pack. But, for the most part, they're just shitty wolves with shitty morals who don't think twice about anyone but themselves. She lumped the majority of Sagtannet's dispersals into that category.

She gave Stag a reflective once over before saying, as abruptly as she'd brought up his father, I think you'd make a good leader, Stag. You know the value of loyalty.