Sequoia Coast born into cruelty and crooked form

Raleska watched the man's countenance shift. Instinctively she recoiled, expecting the disgust was aimed at her -- instead, the raven-pelted wolf went onto detail who had told him of Rusalka. First with gibberish, and then with the remarkably helpful descriptor of brown.

Raleska's expression was unamused. All of the wolves in Rusalka, barring Regin, Kaertok, herself, and Grimnismal, were brown. That was hardly helpful.

Oh. Wait. He'd said he.

That narrowed it down some. As Solpallur excitedly continued, now detailing the man's scars, Raleska became notably surly (well, surlier than normal). It was just like a man to come into their pack and just flap their lips about everything. What was next, he'd leave?

He was a man, so... yeah.

Raleska didn't feel like talking about Miranda or Rusalka anymore. She looked up, almost abruptly asking: "Who are you?"