Sawtooth Spire though i have closed myself as fingers

Eleuthera caught Wylla in a bad mood, which was bad enough without the added insult of a stranger howling with urgency on her borders. She recalled the disrespect Stryx had shown by deferring to the lower ranked Praimfaya and not answering her question and knew she could not abide further slights to Sagtannet or herself. It was Grimnismal all over again, only this time, she was at her lowest of lows and couldn't take anymore. Half of her didn't care to even move or acknowledge the stranger's existence, but if there was one thing that could stoke Wylla's sputtering flames to life, it was a slight, whether simply perceived or otherwise.

Unless it was someone coming to return Thade to her, the only thing that warranted a total stranger commanding that kind of urgency at another pack's borders was a true emergency, and Wylla wasn't in the mood for all that. Nevermind that it wasn't hers to control—she nevertheless pinned the blame on their visitor for disrupting them.

She practically crashed through the undergrowth when she located the howler, wasting no time fixing the lilac she-wolf with a piercing glare. What do you want?