Volary Flights wasn't too much was a fun place. It barely got any conflict and struggled any troubles throughout the winter. To some that sounded like a dream, to live a peaceful life and not have to worry about much. But to a girl who had fire in her lungs and the capacity to destroy, sitting tight and doing nothing was boring. Which is why she extended her reaches to Painted Brigade without telling anyone. They recently had a massive loss, and were proving to come back stronger, promising to teach her more about the cruel world that the Flights could even offer. Blood stained their grasses while a mere few of their members suffered vague trauma.
She could phrase it as her wishing to become stronger and protect her fellow Volarians - or she could lie by omission and continue to leave them in the dark. It wasn't like Painted Brigade was an enemy Clan, after all. She just didn't want word getting back to Ver or her siblings that she joined an enemy of the Veil. In a few months it'd be over and she'd be a full time Volarian again; it'd be that simple.
Littlepaw dropped a few prey carcasses onto the fresh-kill pile, the scent of the other Clan washed clean off of her pelt, instead replaced with the smell of ash and soot, just in case someone with the power decided to try and get sneaky. She said nothing and stretched out her body for a moment, tail flicking behind her.