Dragoncrest Cliffs my bed (worth 10 years' war)

i am proud to be drakru. which as far as she was concerned was the only heritage she was entitled to. i was born drakru. i was raised drakru. i am not a northwoman. not like my mother. i do not believe in her gods or her culture, blodreina explains with a borrowed patience. why should i call myself eske when the name belongs to her kru? blodreina inquires, not really expecting a response. the truth was her mind was already made up. she is blodreina and she had no intentions of ever going back to eske — unless by some unlikely twist of circumstance she happened to start sharing gyda's beliefs.

for a moment blodreina falls silent and makes no moves to abridge it before she draws in a breath. it's not that i don't love my mother, if that is what you think of me. perhaps, blodreina frets for the briefest of moments, that is how it might sound. like she's spitting on her mother's beliefs and culture. she isn't. or, at least, she isn't trying to. i do love her. i love and admire her endlessly. but she will never be true kru. she helped found this pack and even during her co-reign beside heda she could never entirely forsake her beliefs and culture. she didn't even make an effort. she may be one of the fiercest women in my life but that doesn't mean she isn't an outsider. blodreina's always had a very strong, very black and white view on what made an outsider and what made wolves kru. even if it conflicted with what everyone else thought ( which often times it seemed to ).

even she went by a different name for a time. sometimes, it's necessary. sometimes we outgrow names like we outgrow titles. kind of like how a goufa doesn't stay a goufa forever. she offers a half-shrug; despite that nothing about her has ever, even slightly changed. except maybe she'd became more of a bitch than she'd been before ( but that's debatable ).