It’d been decided that they needed to tell Kisla as soon as possible, having at least gotten Lilya’s wounds looked at and her onto the territory before she let out a shaky call for the queen, sitting down while she waited because of her paw and how pressure still stung at it. Tensions had brewed, and the sparrow couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the idea of tension between the two packs. It was, after all, how things had started in her homeland. She knew that their numbers were scarce and the idea that the Whitestone wolves might be a direct repeat of what happened with the Brook wolves honest to god terrified her.
One of her paws scuffed at the light layer of snow on the ground as she waited patiently, consumed more by her own thoughts despite the comforting presence of the man next to her. It was going to work out – she was almost certain that there was some kind of misunderstanding here. Craw and Morganna surely wouldn’t break their alliance like that, and perhaps it was an unruly subordinate of theirs right? She was rightfully angered by the attack, but she was also trying to rationalize because a couple of cuts wasn’t worth the consequences that came with a full out brawl… right?