It always begins the same; a howl of calling and a swift turn of her large figure into the direction of the newcomer. Aithne did not mind these calls for they usually brought forth members wishing to become one with the marshes and that was needed. Strength and drive. So few seemed to carry both principals and Aithne found she respected those who strove to prove themselves worthy of ranks within her pack. Raven had proven herself many times over even before Andras had stepped down and given her the title of Empress. Avery had proven herself a treasured ally, one who would step forth to protect those of the pack when needed and was considered a good friend. The pack was swelling slowly, but swelling it was, and Aithne felt a brief flare of hope at such. Since the shift in leadership and Andras's unfortunate slide down into insanity she had steered Iromar in a direction of neutrality. They had fanned the flames of peace between many of the packs. Some were hesitant for they knew the old adage of Demons and Hellfire. But Aithne was no demon - she was from a land entirely different than this one and her pelt was marred by a brazen white spot on her chest and a white forepaw. White - the dreaded color - yet a color that Andras looked past for even he saw the truth of the matter.

Just recently she had accepted into their ranks a Diveen prince and one of the head advisor's from Diveen, indeed, she had been quite pleased by their new choice of home. All of her wolves knew that to follow the ways of the old Demons in their feud, to instigate a fight, would be met with swift punishment. Whatever form it took deepened on the severity, but Aithne was austere. She would not settle for a mere talk - her word was law. If the law was not obeyed then she would deal out the punishment in like favor without batting an eye.

Always she patrols the borders of Iromar, constantly marking, constantly watching, and she spins around in the opposite direction at Iscariot's call, moving at a sedate trot until she draws closer to his position. Her russet tipped ears cup forward to catch the soft words of Raven on the air. Always the girl is greeting someone or off on a task, and Aithne prides it, but she frowns hard now in a silent worry that the girl will fall even more ill. Still, Raven has not left the land and Aithne wouldn't be a hen mother constantly pecking at her - if the girl thought she was well enough to greet newcomers then she was. It was as simple as that.

The males voice is easily noted as she breaks from a small copse of tress and bushes at the border to move up beside of Raven. Aithne is large; her chest is broad and stalwart. Even her jaws are wide, not the tapered beauty of some females. Thick and broad and full of muscle, she is not a winner for a beauty contest, and yet if she smiled more perhaps she could be considered pretty with her dark green eyes, the right pupil notable by a red ring around the pupil. She stands beside Raven with her tail lifted and head high, a mark of dominance and her eyes are wary as she watches the newcomer. It was nothing personal, simply a trait that entombed Aithne. Where Raven was calm and unconcerned, Aithne was poised and ever vigilant outwardly. As it was said, some wolves with the best intentions...

"The past is over with, stranger. It is a time for change in Iromar; we are not demons, we are simply marsh wolves. Angels, Demons, what does all that drivel matter anyways? All it did was get a bunch of wolves killed and lead Iromar onto the cusp of failure. I know not of the old feud in depth and I do not care." Her voice is naturally coarse and her tone is blunt, not unkind, simply forceful. "I offer the protection of this pack. Small it may seem so far but the wolves here are loyal and fierce and we protect our own, but in return I demand that each wolf make themselves worthy. They must prove in time to be an asset to Iromar rather than a leech, and there are many spots available for those who have extra drive if you are tempted. Do you have such a drive?"

Her eyes are cunning as they survey the male and leaning to her side to press her shoulder into that of Raven's in a gentle manner, always vigilant about her Consul.