He's - not of her home, and she had worked hard, so hard, that the sickness that befell her people, befell so many other of Britain's colonies, in their greed to control as much as they could - would not befall them.

But as he speaks, she snaps back, they're not just talking, her fingers go tight on the reigns, the horse makes a sharp noise in complaint. Where her fingers are just bare at the end of her gloves, they strain white in the force of holding herself. "Lycans? Or did the vampires spread there too?"

Curses, faintly, what was it all for if not to protect a future she would do anything to make free of such fear.