Frostfire Ridge she speaks a language

Suddenly, he is pinned, forced to the ground by the other's charge. The wind is knocked from his lungs, released in a single rush of air as he slams against the rocky terrain. The scent of his own blood hangs heavily in the air, mixed with the thick odour of an unknown pack. His chest burns with pain from the inside but he doesn't have time to assess the damage. Jaws click dangerously close to his face, and Phares winces as he turns away, struggling underneath the stranger.

Oblivious to the history between Hiram and the pack the stranger hails from, the priest is only confused by his demand, his response only a pathetic, strained whine. "I do not know what you're asking! I—" he tries hurriedly, before turning his attention the other figure quickly loping towards the scene. They, too, are larger than himself, with a dark, tawny pelt and a fiery gaze. Phares turns his head away from the threatening snap, another whimper escaping his throat. "If these a-are claimed lands, I apologise for my f-foolishness, I—" he says, stumbling over rushed words as he looks up to the first male with pleading eyes.