Blackfoot Forest one they fear

Aaron had truly only lost his hold on the pack and his rank within it. He could have lost much more than just that. The famine had been brutal and vicious, and had taken the lives of enough wolves that it had given impact to the world around them. The lack of food had turned some wolves into creatures that they would not have been normally. Kierkegaard had only felt his sense of survival heightened. He was a brute and a monster. The ashen creature was oftentimes short and difficult to converse with, but he was not entirely lost in his actions. There was a strange level-headedness to his behavior. After having taken the Rosings under his wing, he had obtained a calmness that had not been there before. For a moment, it meant that the brute would survive another day.
 
The female introduced herself as Minna and he nodded his head to acknowledge that he had gathered the information she had provided him. “Those are good skills,” he drawled in a quiet baritone. His features were still very intense. The ghost had never been good at conversation. He had known solitude his entire life, and though he had sought the acceptance of other packs in times of need, he preferred his own company to that of anyone else’s. This thought brought an image to his head; Moz and Signe. Casting them aside, the great creature attempted to focus on the female before him.
 
She looked at him and expressed that she would take his words to heart. “You will not have to. I am a man of action… let that speak for me,” he told her. “What other roles have you provided for this pack?” And the brute realized that he did not even know the name of the home he had invaded.