The Sentinels rot until the weeds are grown

His dour expression remained as he stared out at the horizon in the distance that was only just visible through the charred and burnt trees. His ears swivelled towards his company, however, as she spoke, before perking up at one specific word — crew. His head and gaze followed then to turn to her, brow crinkling as he remembered a former encounter with a jolt. That odd, pale-furred man had referred to his pack as a crew as well.

"Wait," he started slowly, trying to catch her eye. "Y'wouldn't happen t'know a guy with two coloured eyes? White fur. Talked real fuckin' weird." He shuddered inwardly as he also remembered the wound he had inflicted upon the man's chest, and how it barely affected him at all. He had extended an offer too, but that had been before...everything. But he had also sought to claim a bay along the coast, with a crew.