Wapun Meadow wolf mother

Tonravik watched Echelon shift, but was a persistent woman who was determined. Given the events that had occurred, she was glad Echelon had not come lest she, too, be bitten by a parasite. Tonravik was tense in the anger that she felt toward Echelon's offender. It mattered not the premise. None would lay fang to hers. Tonravik had returned. And they would learn.

The question asked by Echelon asked was one Tonravik did not hesitate in answer. One, she retorts. Two passed. Tonravik sounded perhaps cold in the delivery of this news, but she burned for it. Although the woman was forged of ice and stone, she was different than her mother in that—even for an instant—she felt their loss. But the doer of that she could not make pay. What rabid beast had touched them? How could she know?

And, truly, she did not feel she was settling when she felt ire toward the wolf that had thought it wise to set after her.

So she was quiet, waiting for that answer, staring. To leave any behind was out of her character, but here she stood near the one wolf she never would leave behind. Tonravik did not know the hurt she had caused Echelon, and was not empathetic enough to understand it; but she angered at herself for it, and it showed in the deepening frown upon her facade.