Sun Mote Copse You can stand me up at the gates of hell

Arturo gave a sage nod when the other male answered his question with what the gangster could see was honesty. Something that the Fearghal appreciated, despite that the Fearghal had no real reason to want to know the other' male's intentions aside from his own curiosity. He had nothing to protect but admittedly the well-mannered sovereign could not offer his assistance if he was blind to intentions. The coywolf couldn't help but think that seeing if other parts of these Teekon Wilds fared better was nothing more than hope...a vain one, at that. Although, Arturo couldn't really speak fro how the rest of the Wilds fared from the pestilence that had decided to plague these lands, it was true that he had yet to step foot outside of the Hinterlands but he was a realist and did not presume to dream that they fared any better, though this stranger's appearance more or less confirmed his suspicions.

The stranger made his own inquiries and Arturo was quiet for a moment as he processed it. “It's all the same,” Arturo spoke grimly, glimpsing about them at the barren wasteland that was left. He had moved through enough of the Hinterland's territories to wonder what they looked like in their true glory: with greenery and plentiful prey. For now, they all appeared the same despite their differences. Skeletal. “No, that isn't at all why I came here,” It was the truth since the stranger had offered truth of his own, besides there was hardly any reason to hide his intentions. The famine had placed them on hold, admittedly, and pressured him instead to seek shelter with a pack (as loathe as he was to admit it). Pride had no play here anymore. His pride would get him killed if he let it run rampant, but he kept it on a tight leash especially because he had no interest in dying. He had been surviving, perhaps barely, because he endured, because he was used to enduring; but times were tough and sacrifices had to be made.

“I wish I had better news for you,” Arturo admitted. Also a truth, even if it was a selfish one. A place that the swarm would have left untouched would have been lovely — a reprieve from meager meals and the hunger that plagued him. It was grim all around and there was no denying that. Perhaps outside these Wilds was untouched, perhaps it would have been wise to up and follow the herds yet he hadn't. Whether it was that damnable pride or some semblance of foolish pigheadedness Arturo could not say.