For one hopeful moment, Ren thinks that Joan is suggesting arson. Or regicide (a fancy word for murdering the shit out of the spiderbitchqueen in charge). Or just starting a fucking riot.

"Too fuckin' right I will." Ren's voice is gravelly in her annoyance.

She thinks of the sweet shiny faces of the kids that Rowan keeps adopting as the mandated safe adult of the sept. The cubs they tuck under their arms and help make sense of their new reality, the little things they do to make sure they're looked after.

"Y'don't even need t'ask on that one." She snorts in disbelief that it needed to be said.