It was an apocalypse of feathers. They lay everywhere, sticking out from the dirt like pinnate grey flowers, sprinkled atop of her head in a parody of a halo and even glued to her chest and paws with bloody saliva. The little killer sneezed violently to rid her nostrils of the tickling down and promptly forgot about the slab of flesh at her paws as she began to lick at her crimson lips in earnest. So absorbed was she in the task of self-cleansing that she did not notice the arrival of another until the stranger was almost upon her. Only then, when she felt the coolness of a shadow engulf her in its entirety, did she look up with those black, black eyes. They fell upon the form of a strange female, much larger than Kairos, although similarly dressed. The pup's first instinct was to stand splayed above her prize, chubby body swaying on limbs too thin as her jowls rose into a snarl that would have been terrifying on an older wolf but was only amusing pasted on that defiant visage. The other regarded her for a moment before speaking, her words and tone reassuring the warrioress that she would not have to fight for her hard-earned scrum. The second instinct to awaken within that youthful mind was the desire to suckle, although it was tempered with the knowledge that the black, white and red wolf before her was not the milk-giver, and so she did not start forward to search for teats, but merely whined pleadingly before the sound faded from her chest to silence.

During that quiet, thick as the grave, another imposter arrived on the scene, coloured much like her counterpart. She was less inclined to speak though, and merely gazed on the scene before her with interest. Kairos' ample ruff stood on end as the unfamiliar perfume invaded her reality, but she did not challenge either of the forms before her. Instead she opened her little mouth to speak, and a tiny voice emerged from it, innocent and high-pitched, hardly worthy of the bulky wolf who bore it, “Who are you? If I take away Illias' leg, would he stop screaming like...” she broke off and gestured to the slab of wing at her paws, having forgotten the term the tall wolf used when talking about the tasty feathered creatures that fluttered on high. She was too young yet to truly comprehend what was being asked of her, and only had room for single idea in her skull at one time - a common trait in pups still at the teat – so therefore could not be expected to return Widow's niceties. Due to her tender years, she also did not understand the complexities of leadership and lineage as her brothers seemed to, although this wisdom would undoubtedly come with the passing of time. Had she been aware of the current state of affairs, she may well have spoken boldly to Jaidah's daughters, sharing her desire to be a leader among wolves. Unfortunately, she was not cognisant of her fierce ego or her headstrong ambition just as yet, and so looked on the world with only an insatiable curiosity that neither rules nor morals could sway. No, at that moment she was nothing other than a misguided pup whom had strayed too far from her den.