Artok stood and shook his pelt free of debris and bugs and whatever else had fallen on him while he slept. He hadn't dug a den, probably wouldn't he always had preferred being outside as it were. He stretched his entire body and then slowly worked his right shoulder and leg with some more easy stretches, when the tightness finally dissipated enough that he could walk, he started towards the pack borders.

He had been a warden before and he would attempt to be again. A Small payment to the wolf Fury for allowing him entry. She had said herself they had enemies, well he was determined to be at the borders if that were the case. Though he limped, he moved with more speed than most would have thought of him, and he was fine with that. He sometimes would use the limp to his advantage when he needed to attack stealthily, but that felt dishonorable so that wasn't often.

He lifted a leg at the borders to add his own scent.

There had been a scent duly noted these past days, but it took Arashi some time to seek it out. Fortunately for him, today it hadn't been far to find.

Gliding silently across the terrain, he watched from afar as the strange man marked their borders. Having been the only male to call the Strath home thus far, it almost made him jealous to see another, and already marking as though the place were his.

He certainly was no outsider... at least, now he wasn't. Fury's scent clung to him still.

He'd soon had enough of the silent game and approached, bellowing a chuff to announce his presence.

It is a relief to see a new face here. I trust you will make a suitable addition to our ranks? It was a question seeking an answer, though it could have been passed as a mere statement.

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Artok had scented a few wolves here, not many. But he hadn't actively sought them out. He was a quiet wolf, preferring to exist upon the outskirts, the fringes, where no one and nothing could touch him.

He had seen too many packs implode and detonate in his younger years. It made him nervous if he was being honest, but Artok was never honest with himself.

Artok felt a prickling of unease and lifted his head, eyes searching, gazing. Before he could see the other though, a wolf came up on his left side. The other chuffed, but Artok couldn't stop the small involuntary tightening of his muscles he hated it when wolves came up beside him, especially from inside the pack lands.

Adlartok straightened setting his leg down and gave a gentle sniff. This wolf reeked of Fury, must be her mate or not. It wasn't his business and he didn't care. He preferred his women a little more smaller. Had he had mates before, no, did he have pups very possibly. So who was he to say or judge anything.

The man framed a sentence as a question and a statement and Artok almost snorted. He couldn't stop the smirk that lit up his face, though he kept his body submissive. He turned looked at the other once, so he could see he wasn't being dominant and spoke.

Something you should know about me, Sir. You got a question just fucking ask. Am I good for you pack is what you want to know? Will i endanger you.

Artok licked his muzzle. The simple answer is yes and no, but I imagine you want more details. Very well. My name is Adlartok Arrluk, but you can call me Tok or Ad.

He almost said Artok, but caught himself, saving that nickname just for his uncle even though the bastard was probably long dead. When I lived in a pack i worked hard for the Guardian trade, which I will do so again. I'm a hunter, preferably small game, but I can bring down a deer with packmates, and I am a fighter. I was told you have enemies, which is why I'm here at the borders, watching.

When the wolf spoke, the hound could not help it when a crude snarl curled upon his lip. Not many had ever addressed him in this way. But despite the urge, Arashi could not yet provoke their newest recruit. Just as Sakari had once warned him... it would only scare them away; or worse, turn them into yet another enemy.

He remained silent from here, listening as they bantered.

"My name is Adlartok Arrluk, but you can call me Tok or Ad."

So many ways to say a name. Why need it be so difficult? It was a fucking name.

Once the man had finally shut his maw, the hound lifted his chin and snorted, proboscis flaring. So... you like to talk, He uttered, teeth clicking sharply together.

A chatterbox; not to mention one with a sharp tongue. A limp. So far, Arashi was not overly impressed.

Some things you should know about me, Adlartok. I don't have the time, nor patience to sit here and listen to your ongoing banter. When asked a question, answer it with a simple phrase. No addition side commentary. It's useless, just like all of your little "nicknames". Your name is Adlartok, so that is what you will be called. Jarring words, maybe, but necessary all the same. Fury had his time with the Private. Now it was Arashi's turn.

Sauntering slowly, he began to circle the newcomer. The majority of whom you will find within The Saints are soldiers. Each are disciplined well and taught to live up to the best of their ability; to reach their absolute potential by any and all means. If this is where you seek to be placed, then you should pay careful mind to my words. Or, you can choose to ignore them... maybe become something else entirely... a hunter, storyteller, spy... whichever you will. That, or you'll end up right back where you started. Without a pack altogether. Which do you think you will choose?

Call this all what you will, but Arashi saw it as only one simple thing: a test, one of purity, decisiveness, and commitment. He had yet to see promise in Adlartok, but perhaps the results of this assessment would change that, even if only slightly.

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my entire reply disappeared ;(

Artok raised a brow, the fur on his nape prickling. He didn't need attacked in a pack he was given sanctuary again.

I fucking hate it. He had been polite, for introductory means. His name was fucking hatd to say. This wolf was an ass, Tok was not a fan.

Artok hated being circled like prey. So with determined eyes, but submissive tail and form. He followed the man keeping him in his line of vision. It pulled on his shoulder, but he gritted his teeth and followed.

I'm fine with warrior.

Arashi decided to ignore the commentary, alongside the soldier's reaction.

Ceasing the circular movement, he returned to stand directly affront.

Warrior, he'd chosen.

Then you will train under me. I am Arashi, your General. You will likely remain as you are now, a Private. Later on, as our Warchief sees fit, once you've shown potential as a soldier, you will be placed within a specific category. When that time comes, the real work will begin.

Now, Arashi grew eager. This would be the first he would be given to mold into what a true soldier was. All Adlartok had to do was not fuck up.

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Adlartok finally ceased his movement and stood still. His shoulder wasn't pained, but it was tight that constant fucking movement. He tilted ears forward, listening, waiting.

Artok dipped his muzzle, but all he could think in his head was fuck me. He and this wolf were either gonna eventually get along or kill each other. Great. Beautiful. Way to go Artok.

Alright. Do I have certain duties? Or you'll howl for training?

It was satisfactory to know that Adlartok would finally give his full attention and devotion to his to-be role.

For the time being, you will continue to assist with patrols and keeping the markers fresh. While the Warchief is busied with her whelps, it will be up to you and I to see the territory unbothered. Should you ever come across a stranger, seek out myself or Fury. Do not hastily ward them off. Anyone could be a potential recruit, unless they show brutish actions before given an offer. It was an ironic thing to say, considering he'd done just that a few times before.

When we have spare time, we will indeed train. You'll need to learn how to fight properly without that leg getting in the way... otherwise you'll be utterly useless. But how to do so? He'd have to think on it.

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Adlartok always gave his all to anything he tried, it had always been something of his, a bit of a hang up in some cases honestly. He wanted nothing less than perfection. He expected great things from himself and he pushed. Hence why his wound did not scare him, he had learned to adapt with it.

Artok listened closely to the male in front of him. The mention of his leg drew him pause. He looked down at it and back up. He worked his mind, trying to think of something to say, short to the point, without causing offense. Finally, he just spoke up.

I've had the wound since I was a child. I've adapted well enough. I can do so again. That's all he said. Artok already knew how to fight well with three legs, often did. And his leg could be used it was just tight as fuck. The muscle hadn't mended right. It hurt sometimes if he strained it too much, mostly it was just tight.

This will be the last from me. You can choose to add a final response or let it fade from here.

Hmph, he'd grunt quietly, eyeing Adlartok with a long, hard stare.

We'll see just how well you cope with it. This wasn't his way of being an asshole, but a genuine concern he held. If not able to fight well with this injury, the lives of all The Saints plus his own would be jeopardized.

Ears twitching with a dismissive gesture, the hound turned to depart, leaving the to-be soldier with the remains of his patrol. Arashi had other places to be.