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There was tension, but yet uninformed, Chacal did not have reason to believe that there had been a conflict that involved her. There were two youths who needed tending and feeding, and when she did set out to patrol the borders, she did not happen to pass by the area where the brawl had occurred. Her sister found her first. Her mood was bouyant, and she rumbled affectionately as she preened the fur at her sister's shoulder as well. Content to enjoy a moment of bonding in the wake of chaos. 

But she stiffened when she mentioned a fight- and then, when she mentioned freshwater man. Chacal pulled her head back to gawk at Mireille in disbelief. Her heart jumped; he had followed her back? That had not been her intention. She'd woven a path on the way back which meandered and crossed waters, hoping it might not lead him directly but...He knew she was from an oceanside area by the briny perfume she wore. 

She inhaled deeply, and looked Mireille over when she admitted she'd struck first. That much didn't matter- if Mireille had been inclined to strike out, there must have been a reason, she thought. Her thoughts on Arric turned dark. "Men," She exhaled, through her teeth. "Are you alright, Mireille?" She asked, casting a worried glance over her sister. She had not caught the scent of blood on her, but perhaps she'd missed something.