Blackfeather Woods Stormclouds

Aerenys dipped her head solemnly, feeling a momentary flutter of uncertainty flap its wings beneath her breastbone -- determination setting her jaw shortly afterward as she felt the decision her imprint had made. Something like hope followed, though Mati couldn't be sure if it was her own or Eldritch's.

Her thoughts were of a similar vein; it simply must work. If they failed again, what was left for them? They had seen well enough how others took to their existence, her mind returning to the injured man in the mountains and how the pale leader had sent them on a wild goose hunt for herbs only to spirit her patient away before they could return. The Melonii were gone -- the interloper, her kin, had made that clear enough. The covens and cults vanished, scattered to the wind. 

It was only them and the Woods. If no pack could be forged, the Bayou queen's only option was that which she had left behind in the swamps: a life beyond the borders of her own kind, serving the wolves of the Wilds as caplata.