The Sentinels rot until the weeds are grown

Wow this guy was a friendly little fuck wasn't he?  His moodiness wasn't ingratiating him to her at all, and she appraised him silently a moment, split.  On one side, she wondered if he'd make a terrible crewmate for it.  She didn't want wolves who couldn't get along and didn't know what they wanted or how to make friends.  On the other, they needed bodies.

She could always punt him into the surf later?

"Well.  If you decide to make those plans a little clearer, I got a crew of my own on the shore just north of here.  We don't expect much; loyalty and support in the crew would really be your only jobs.  But it's a solid bunch to have at your back."  She almost led into Smokestep's warning, but recalled the choice was hers now.