Giving a nod, Janius put both his hands on the table. "Kaleeth, you might be afraid of yourself now, but I want you to try something. Come here..." Janius shifted to sit on the table and carefully tried to lift up Kaleeth's upper body until she was sitting up, trying his best not to hurt her. He craned the side of his head near to the side of hers and swept his arm over the entire dining chamber so that she could see was he saw. "It wouldn't be so easy to see for just our pack, but everyone here, they lived through a point in time where they didn't trust themselves. Many here are probably still scared that they would lose control at some point and do something horrible. Like everyone else, they'll learn how to control themselves, but in the meantime, what do you think keeps them from running away? From isolating themselves so they can't be a danger to anyone?" Janius gave a half-smile and turned his eyes to Kaleeth, "I'll give you a hint, it isn't just the food and shelter."

---

The boy that Meesei had picked out to fetch the lieutenants obeyed Meesei, though outwardly it seemed to be more out of fear than anything else.

Vera was the first to arrive as she was directing the actions of the infirmary. She had taken off her armour, but she was still covered in blood from the battle. If it weren't for the resilience of lycans, her sanitary practices might have doomed whoever she helped to treat. "Hello again," Vera gave Meesei a nod. She was back to her regular, softer self, but she was visibly running on a high of activity that belied the dark rings forming around her eyes from fatigue.

With some hide clothing and patches of sawdust on his leggings, Oswall arrived next. He seemed mildly frustrated, probably from being interrupted in his large task of barricading and fortifying the gate. Such a task would have taken all night anyway. "Meesei, I assume this is important," He said, crossing his arms.

It was another half an hour before Darahil arrived. His reason for being unusually late was immediately evident in his stride. He was leaning heavily on a crutch. A dried, blood-stained welt on his robe curtained down from one hip. A sharp eye would spot the small frayed hole where an arrow or crossbow bolt may have struck him. "I am sorry for delaying," He hissed through his teeth, "I could not walk until I had seen to my wound. Even numbing the pain is difficult where silver is concerned and restoration is...not a focus of mine."

---

Fendros sat up quickly, letting his wounded arms hang loose. "They don't mean nearly as much to me as you do!" The words came so instantly to Fendros that he didn't bother lowering his voice. He caught the eye of some other people nearby who had looked over to them in the commotion and it seemed to bring him down somewhat. He let out the rest of his breath and closed his eyes, "It's not...your words aren't meaningless to me Ahna." Fendros' tone had turned away from his anger, "I was scared for you. There, I admit it. I'm sorry." Fendros was not exactly enthusiastic to apologise, as if he was a child who was forced to say it, but enough of him wished that he hadn't shouted at Ahnasha that it was sincere.