Not sure what exactly the nature of Goldshard and Ripred's relationship was, but it is definitely implied that they knew each other considering some of the things Ripred said about her (he essentially said she was high-maintenance which implies that he knew her, and also says that he warned her against Snare.)
Somewhere, deep inside, Goldshard has always known that it would end like this. Claws soiled with blood, guts ripped open, fangs dripping. Death and desperation.
She curses herself. She curses herself for doubting her instinct. For she— she ought to have known. She ought to have refused him back then. She knew his methods of war — how the weak links bled beneath his ferocious jaws and the strong were made as such by the whip of his tail. Why would he be different in domesticity? Yes, she had been warned. Ripred's face had been torn with rage — He's a butcher, Goldshard, you think he's going to take mercy on you? On your pups?
But she had been flattered — flattered that he, the great general, had chosen her. Nevermind that his name was Snare and that that ought to have been warning enough — nevermind that he was known for laughing in time with Gorger as atrocity spilled from from their collective smiles — nevermind all of that. Just because you lost a family, she had told Ripred in spite, does that mean I shouldn't have one?
His face had frozen, his eyes had bulged. The sound that came from his mouth had been haunted. And they hadn't spoken again.
Goldshard had made a mistake. She had, and she ought to have known. When Snare first swiped his claw across her fur when she lay whining in labor, when he first sent his tail crackling across her baby's tender red back, when he killed the first of her pups when her back was turned, when he did so many things.
There's no fixing this now. This has always been a losing game. The warrior is in the Labyrinth now. He will kill her last pup. He will see the Bane and never Pearlpelt, so he will kill her pup.
He won't, Snare had snapped. You moron, Goldshard, we killed that pup he always lugs around. He's a tiny, spineless thing himself, you think he'll kill the Bane?
And Goldshard hates herself for what she thinks when he says that. She hates how futile this is. How it is already far too late. How, if Snare gets his way—
Goldshard will die before Snare gets his way.
So she bursts into the cave in which Snare and another have intercepted the warrior. She moves as if she is a river — fluid, fast, with no hesitation. One rat's throat is torn from his throat immediately. She turns, and there he is. Snare. The rage billows off him.
"Don't be an idiot, Goldshard. He's come to kill the Bane!"
But she has been afraid of his anger for so long. And her passiveness has had a price. This is the end of the line. It always has been. "I would rather have it dead than trust it to you!"
And her heart breaks at those words — because her pup is not an it and a Bane. He is a pup. He is Pearlpelt. He is her sweet little son, and she is condemning him to death already.
But Snare cannot live. Because it is the truth — she would rather have Pearlpelt die by the warrior boy's sword than by Snare's claw.