Whinifred watched as people arrived. The female that came was quite and simple looking. It made Whinifred feel more at ease to be with a female among the group. Not because she felt akward around the males, but more because she wanted to blend in and listen, observe as closely as she could. While others showed so did Lysander. Whinnie hadn't expected much from him. He would have to stop playing his game, and for some reason Fred had a feeling he liked his game. It was fine by her. All it meant was she knew how to irritate him if he got on her nerves to much. Her eyes followed to where his was looking, seeing his eye were on the other female.
It didn't bother her in the least. She knew where she stood with the male, and as she saw it he had given her something. Whinifred was sure he would be happy to get some again. It was far from her mind. When Jefferson spoke it was a common news, though it seemed terse and like it was heading towards something bad. When the bad did finally come it didn't pertain to Whinifred. She hadn't know this Iskata, though she wished she could have meet the women before her death. The sadness that passed over the wolves around her was stomach turning. So much sorrow from these wolves, it made Whinifred wish she could releave them of their pain.
"I'm sorry to those who have lost someone close to them today." Whinifred said gently. She didn't know how to adress the problem. In her own pack they would have a giant night celebration for the dead, telling tales of when they were with the person or remembering things about them. Then the singer of the pack would sing their soul to the heavens. They probably wouldn't appreciate talking about it or taking in a new tradition, but if one didn't speak one wouldn't know. "Monsieur Jefferson. I know of a tradition that may ease the pain if all is interested?" Her voice was not timid as she asked.