Neverwinter Forest cry wolf

As their meeting came to a beginning, the alpha addressed his group of wolves with a voice that resonated through the trees. Sawyer’s gaze darted around to catch sight of the others who had gathered there to listen to the man speak, and he was surprised by the number that had turned out. It was not a small group, but large enough of a pack that it would be easily sustained once the prey came back and they were able to send out hunting parties. On that subject, Scimitar seemed to inquire as to whether or not anyone had found themselves lucky with a catch. There were a few quiet pips here and there from some of the gathered wolves, including a small quip from the newly appointed beta about a family of mice.
 
That familiar unease had filtered back into the golden male’s gut and he lowered his head slightly, attempting to keep quiet. He had not happened across any hunting opportunities since his arrival, and for this the southern boy felt himself a bit useless. Darting his glossy gaze around to the others, he waited to see what else their alpha would inquire of them. All the while, Sawyer wondered why he had even showed his face to this meeting. Such new blood would have very little to contribute.