The scarred Viking was not as quick as some of his smaller pack mates and was henceforth made to listen to Maude's ridiculous and rapacious song with the others as it trailed behind her. A scowl had twisted his scarred muzzle — but let her sing it all the same. Kjalarr still had to deduce whether they were friends or two pack mates that couldn't stand one another or some cross breed of the two. Caiaphas' howl tore the sky asunder as she called for the seadog wolves and adrenaline rushed through his veins at the thrill of it. As he drew past Maude and Ishild who had beaten him there by a few seconds he took his place at his Queen's side, though did not stand shoulder to shoulder with her so that these wolves knew that she was truly the one in charge. The Beta's head lowered to sniff at the borders as the male approached. They were a tiny pack, he scented. A single child from the smell of her upon the borders where it lingered upon the coat of those who cared for her. A wicked grin split the Viking's muzzle. They would make for easy work.

A low growl rumbled in Kjalarr's chest, his own hackles bristling as the male spat words at Caiaphas, his lips curling back to reveal sharp teeth, his sharp gaze fixating upon the male who had audacity that Kjalarr felt he did not deserve. They had parked on Saltwinter's doorstep. They had not kept to their agreement and obviously ignoring it hadn't made it go away. They would pay: one way or another. “You insult the intelligence of everyone here, especially yours, by acting like you do not know.” The leer that formed across the scarred Viking's face was cruel and slow. Perhaps Kjalarr should not have spoken but the opportunity had been there and it was too good to pass up, admittedly. Either the male before them was simply playing ignorant or he truly was ignorant.

It didn't matter. Ignorance could be feigned all this male wanted. Kjalarr had been here the first time and he knew Caiaphas' demands had not been in any way misleading. There had been no mistaking them or the unspoken threat of what would happen if they failed to deliver. And they had failed; and Saltwinter was here to collect one way or the other.

It became apparent that these Seadogs were little more than sniveling cowards to the viking as the time ticked by and none else answered the call. His cruel sneer turned to one of disgust. The bi-toned male answered Caiaphas' demands refusing to show them what she had asked, instead offering some bullshit story about how no one bothered to stock caches. As far as Kjalarr could tell the borders were still present, as if until this moment, they had been desperately clinging to a crumbling society. The Fates were kind to Saltwinter. This was the Seadog's fate for settling so close to another pack. They had fallen into ruin while Saltwinter's empire grew. Of course, it was no wonder, Kjalarr thought. Their leader hadn't even bothered to show up. A leader that did not rise to defend their own turf, a territory they had assured themselves they had every right to be on, well, that was no leader at all.

“Coward.” Kjalarr spat at the male's retreating form. It disgusted him: the utter lack of loyalty he had for what had once been; but then again loyalty meant everything to Kjalarr and to one who held it in such high esteem would find any that showed disloyalty the scum of the earth. “Perhaps he spoke the truth about their caches,” Kjalarr allowed: the famine had only recently ended but Kjalarr wasn't so eager to believe that. “but we should scour the territory just in case.” And take what they could, of course, if there was anything to be found.