Blacktail Deer Plateau I'm Hemingway with a shot of whiskey

dante's comment upon the aptness of the aspiring outrider was lost beneath lasher's sharp intake of breath. he knew that peregrine had abruptly and cruelly foisted the reins of alphaship onto the gunmetal wolf; dante had not wished to be ruler, but taltos felt that his companion had settled quite well into the role. yet here now was the silver man, offering him the rank and role.

taltos watched the handsome features of his companion for a long series of moments, becoming improbably aware of his breath, the twittering of a collection of finches, and the gentle rustle of a last warm zephyr in the tree-branches.

"i would be honored," he murmured at length, almost mindlessly. it was not that he craved the power of being at the pack's helm -- in truth he would have happily served as its beta till death -- but the enormity of his choice had not yet weighted his shoulders. "what will you do?"