Wheeling Gull Isle keep you in the dark

molten gaze falls upon a silver shape; fur clinging to the frame of a wolf. exhaling, recognition dawns; the wolf she'd met only briefly. this one had been utterly unfazed by the presence of a foreign and bleeding wolf in their territory, and left immediately upon being told to by one that held no rank in her claim, something that told the warlord that this one certainly would not impress with her intelligence, pliant as she was. 

"what do you want?" to claim that she was utterly content sifting through her thoughts would be by no means true, and this woman, if anything, was a distraction from that. her muzzle lifts, gaze shifting open, but the rest of her remains still.