Sahalie was not opposed to Castel joining their hypothetical pack, but it felt weird to extend the invitation to someone she barely knew and to drop the conversation entirely. All she knew about Castel was that she was a bit of a flirt, she had a nice smile, and that Sahalie was convinced she was a good person. But Sahalie knew nearly everything there was to know about Alastor, and she had spent countless hours with Larkspur—who she assumed was going to follow her out of the Monadnock just like he had followed her in. Sahalie had always told herself that when she was a leader she would not be so scrutinizing like some other leaders were: distrustful like Drestig, or high-standards as Craw. This was not to say she wanted to be like Spieden, who more or less didn't care where a wolf slept as long as they contributed. No, Sahalie wanted to care, she wanted to help. Her pack would be one where loners could feel safe and heal their tired, hardened, judgmental hearts. So she wanted to know Castel.
It was odd, though, to know that she was closing in on Drestig and Jessie's borders but feel unsafe approaching, like it would be unwise to go any further. A howl crept up her throat before she muzzled herself, letting out a frustrated whine instead. The tension between Whitestone Monadnock and Wild Rye Fields was confusing but very real: Askan's upfront disrespect, Lorcan's wild suspicion. She worried that Drestig or Jessie, upon hearing her would run out here and discover that she was a traitor or a bad wolf or something. And they would tell her to leave the Monadnock or they would be upset with her.
Chewing on her lip, Sahalie could only hope that Castel would show up eventually. If she did not the girl would just have to turn back and return to the Monadnock.