Hushed Willows Quixote

Stark was good at talking. He was good at playing level headed. He was good at many things, however, few mattered when it came down to a wolf he only vaguely remembered showing back up and assuming that he could just walk back in and take back a pack he'd left behind. Stark was confident in his pack, his people, that no matter what happened they would back him. If it came down to it, even if Warbone won a challenge for his rank, the wolves of the Keep would not stand for his rule. What that would mean for him, who knew, but they would not stand by idly. 

Stark's eyes cut from Warbone - who actually seemed convinced that a once-king was enough to take back the position - to Tambourine as the boy shouted. Tambourine was ruffled, where Stark had not risen to the challenge. "You're an unknown. A variable I can't simply throw into things. That's not my style." Sure - Stark was headstrong and he was brash but he didn't just accept things as they were. "If you think whatever you left behind is still here waiting for you to rush in and save it, you're wrong. We've managed just fine without you." Stark pointed out. Sure, if Warbone wanted to say that he'd fallen on bad times and that was just unfair for him, Stark could believe it. He wasn't going to give up the Keep though. 

"It would be best for you to continue on your way." The dark male settled on finally, his eyes narrowing a bit.