Anger. Lost. Despair. Bloodlust. Madness. Sorrowful. Vengeful.

I am trembling as the growls grow in a feral intensity around me. Faolan has stopped speaking. I spy Becuma at the very edge of the light by the feeble fire. I am supposed to be a queen here? Ha. I never wanted to be in charge. I was a Rider. So why in the otherworlds was my mouth opening… “Hear me my wolves of the plain,” I begin using a Bard’s trick to make my voice carry but nary over a dangerous gasping to every miscreant present. Clenching my fists I step closer to the flames. ”My sorry, hungry wolves…I’m sorry for being gone so long. I had to bring back one of mine. I have not forgotten you.” Protests begin as spats and snarls. The unease with the pack is understandably strong. ”My wolves…we will do as wolves do. Our territory has been over hunted. Yes? Time to take new territory from those that are weaker...”

More protests arise. Becuma comes closer for whatever reasons. I see Baine studying me from her spot by Aedan. We aren’t strong enough. We are too hungry to be of good. Too few of us…

”Ha,” I laugh somewhat hysterically before screeching, ”WE WILL DO AS THE WOLVES DO!" My voice is foreign to myself. I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to steal that miserable wizard’s staff. I wanted to know what had become of my husband. Why wasn’t he here? I wanted to make others feel as horrid as I did. I was going to make this sorrowfulness of mine and take to it with a vengeance. ”My wolves we are going to hunt by the moonless nights every settlement we come across and take them for their worth.”

A mournful single howl in the distance is my answer. I would have answers by the end of the summer. The wolves of Magh Croimor would be once again feared as they properly should. Only a few short days we had any preparations for the first raid of the season. The first raids would be for food and live animals…the next ones would be for morale…and the last ones would be for answers…

I turn my eyes, glittering with flames towards Becuma. She looks guilty…