Barrow Fields Dear hero imprisoned

There was something about this stranger that irked Rysk. Who did he think he was, looking down on him like that? Now that the male had come closer, Rysk could clearly smell the scents of other wolves on his pelt. Better not bite him in the legs, then.

Something like that he answered, just a moment too late and with a tone too arrogant to sound polite. Actually, Rysk didn't know where he was going, all he knew was that he wanted to be as far away from his brother as possible. You from around here? he asked, although he could already smell the answer, but for some reason he wanted to keep the conversation going. Something about this wolf intrigued him.