Redsand Canyon 'til I tear the walls

"your business," echoes the warlord, as it's the second time he's referred to whatever his dealing might be as such. "what is it, exactly? how do the coastal wolves meddle in it?" he is forthcoming about just how badly he seems to want them to suffer at the fangs of his and his, though less so about the vague beginnings of their conflict. her desire to understand such things is relatively new; a change stemming, perhaps, from her departure from the Nightwalkers. 

"you will not call me darling," she states plainly, gaze steady on his. there is no anger in it, only factual firmness. "I do not think they would attack you here," she begins, "it would take more than a disagreement, a fight between warriors to warrant them coming to the mountains." if the coastal wolves sought to drive donovan and the saints even further; if the distance already existing between them was not far enough, surely there would have to be some other reason to do so. the island's leader did not strike her as foolish nor cowardly, and surely there must be good reason, if any, to draw her and her warriors from their isle.