Big Salmon Lake northern soul

I'm aaliiiveeee

Screw officially.  Traded enough watches with people to eavesdrop.  Got the rough ideas, but not the practice.  And not a shred of guilt was found.  All it would have taken was one disease targeting the elders and they'd have been at a disadvantage.  With him picking up what he could, they'd at least not be starting from a complete blank slate.  The raid leaders would have been able to fill in some of the gaps.

As far as venting went, he mostly was just tired of the illogical things that had befallen him.  Nothing seemed right to him.  Like the world was just a bit skewed. And I have no idea.  On either aspect.  It made no sense to me.  Like if you're pretty good at a bunch of stuff but there's already a ton of hunters or something, wouldn't that put you at a disadvantage?  If you got more titles than the alpha, could you just take the rank without a squabble?  How do you even compare a wolf who could hunt a bison by themselves versus a wolf who could command an army or one that could practically raise the dead? They're too different.  To me, it seems like it opens more questions than it might solve.  Let 'em fight it out.  Get respect.  Hell, someone could be complete garbage at everything and if they're more reliable than some smarty-pants loser, I'd rather the garbage guy be higher rank.  He shrugged.  Quixote had opinions.  Lots of them.  Bury the world in them.

That'd be the tactician group in my old pack.  Like the oldest, most haggard wolves you ever saw.  Huddled around each other looking like they're about to croak, not socializing with the others... They were the ones who picked people's 'destinies' for them and stuff.  Not quite sure how.  Few of us called 'em the skeleton lords.  I don't know how they managed to cram that much unknown stuff in the middle of a pack.  Mulder would totally have been suspicious of them, Quixote would have agreed if he knew what the X-Files were.