There were new scents in Two Rivers Isle: scents that hadn't been there when Arturo had departed from the territory he had grown attached to and had sought to claim for himself and his empire. He scouted for other locations, of course, but this was the place that spoke to the gangster. Apparently, as it would turn out, he was not the only one that it spoke to. His hackles bristled along his spine as he strode through the forest, detecting the scents of adults mixed with those of children. Very young children. He had left the territory only for a week or so ...but it appeared as if this had been enough time for it to catch the attention of another. They had more than he but this did not deter nor frighten the Fearghal monarch; and he was not as alone as he appeared, he reminded himself. He had struck a deal with the sea titan Skellige, after all.

Yet despite the ferocity that burned within the depths of the fiery red-orange gaze of the coywolf, he loosened his tense shoulders with a few rolls as he moved towards the woodland's heart, his fur still damp from crossing the river. He was a business man, after all. This could simply be another transaction and if it couldn't be resolved through negotiation...then, well, the gangster knew how it ended largely depended upon what happened within the next moments (hours?) to come. Yet surely if he could twist his meeting with the sea titan that had been hell bent on eating either the vole he'd caught that day or Arturo himself then he could surely strike a deal here, as well; but Arturo was not arrogant and did not dwell upon any sort of impending victory. Time would tell.

Arturo's steps drew to a cease and when he reached the woodland's heart he tipped his head back and let out a summons to those that would call themselves their small band's leaders.

The gangster did not appreciate the display of dominance from the male — though it was admittedly lacking with the bizarrely short tail of the one who asserted himself as leader of their small band. Hardly anything of a band in the coywolf's mind but he kept this assessment to himself. As the territory was still free and the fact that Arturo had intended to claim it first kept the gangster from budging from the neutral stance he bore. He did not submit but he did not enforce his own authority, either. They were two men talking business though this had the air of being determined to head sour very quickly. Not all business deals went smoothly and sometimes they sunk to the depths of an wrathful sea...but as nothing had yet to truly start Arturo did not err to the side of pessimism.

The words that feel from the larger male's mouth left the coywolf feeling bemused. This stranger was not the first titan that Arturo had dealt with ...although the Fearghal could not help but amuse himself for a few silent moments by wondering how well he would fare — and the spectre of a woman who hovered on the sidelines — against the sea titan Skellige. Arturo hoped to never have to unleash that beast from it's chains...having no doubt that the massacre that sea titan would leave in his wake would be ...messy, and Arturo didn't like messes. He had the disadvantage of being smaller than the self proclaimed leader but Arturo had not built his empire by being the muscle. He had wolves for that — such as Skellige. He had always prided himself on his assertion of being the brains of operations.

“Well,” Arturo drew thoughtfully, politely. He was a gentleman first and foremost, after all. “Now that complicates things as I have had my eye on this Isle for some time,” Arturo informed the stranger. In some ways, the directness was unwarranted to the gangster who found this both irritating and amusing. Admittedly, the coywolf had let his exploration get the better of him, and while he had met up with his oldest son, he knew he should not have ventured so far from the Isle; but this was more complicated than “you snooze, you lose”. Arturo's world did not work like that...and Arturo didn't lose. He took a losing situation and turned it into an ...investment of sorts. “You have what...three adults and two children? More or less. Very young, from the smell of it.” This Arturo knew well: for he, himself, was a father. “That's not much of a pack, and risky.” He spoke simply with a casual shrug: but no doubt this stranger knew that. “So let us discuss this like gentleman, yeah?” For there was no reason to be anything but cordial. “Tell me about this pack of yours, why you came to be, what you aim to become.” Arturo invited politely, because he was, at the very least, willing to listen.

The self-proclaimed leader spoke of them, that they liked their privacy and explained the Isle's makeup to the Fearghal though this was largely unnecessary. Arturo had, had plenty of time to explore the territory he had intended to claim before he had ventured off on his scouting trip and these wolves had come along. While the mechanics of their pack sounded like they might be well founded they, however, did not suit Arturo in the slightest. His fiery orange-red gaze stayed level as he continued to hold Burke in his unwavering gaze, the gangster's expression unchanging. The truth was a simple thing: Arturo, while at one point had came to the realization that he would need to join a pack to survive the famine, knew that to subjugate himself to a subordinate once more when he once reigned as Ceannasach was far from ideal. Yet, life had begun to breathe anew into the Wilds and he had intended to stake his claim only for his plans to be brought to an abrupt obstacle in his way: namely these wolves who failed to acknowledge that he had once held some sort of weak claim upon this Isle. He was a gang leader. He had done his time as a subordinate and would not humble himself before someone who made no effort to negotiate. It was obvious they planned to go no where, speaking as if their claim was already official, as if they held the only rights to the Isle.

For a moment, though a moment only he considered it. Weighed the pros and cons against one another. Arturo prided himself on his intelligence but it was equal to his resolve. He was not easily persuaded and the offer made to him was feeble in the gangster's mind.

The Ceannasach did not bow to those who stole from him, who did not intend to offer him anything more than any other pack in these Wilds would be willing to give him. His fiery eyes slid to the pallid woman as she spoke up, telling him that he should not be so quick to mistake their size for weakness. Yet, that was exactly what it was in reality. Should they be pitted against a full pack they would struggle to find victory. After she had spoken her piece his gaze flickered back to Burke, fixing him in a piercing stare. “No.” Arturo said simply. He knew what he wanted and to settle for anything less was to relinquish his dignity which he had managed to hold onto through the famine. He had not came this far to slide back down the ladder.

With that simple word spoken he turned and made his departure, crossing the river with ire seething beneath his skin. Arturo was not a man with only a single plan and for now, his first was abandoned for the next.