Arturo was not particularly sure when he'd begun to think of Ravensblood Forest as his but as he made his trips from the Bay to the Forest more frequently he knew in the marrow of the bones that he would own this forest. It was not the Isle, and further North than the gangster had originally intended to settle but it was much closer to Blackrock Depths than Two Rivers Isle which was good for business. It would make it easier to maintain the alliance that Skellige and him had struck so many months ago, an alliance that Arturo had every intention of keeping with the sea titan. Finally he could make good on his side of it, having taken shelter with the Depth wolves for a few months. It had been a set back at first and when Riptide had happened a necessary precaution. Yet, the sea witch had became a memory and the gangster felt that now was the time to raise his Teaghlaigh, to forge his Family and fulfill his intent of traveling to these Wilds. If his children still resided in the Wilds Arturo did not know, had not sought them. They were their own wolves now, and though they would always be apart of the Family they were not forced to remain. That was how it had always been and how Arturo remained for it to be even in this new reincarnation.

He prowled through the tall sequoias, careful to avoid brushing too close to their trunks that oozed red sap in case it was fresh. It would take some time to fully rid his coat of the scent of sea brine but he wasn't so sure he wanted to begin that process by getting sap stuck to his fur. No, Arturo Fearghal was, perhaps in that matter, a vain beast. The tall gangster picked up lone scents, his pace slowing as he gave a pause. A lone female and a lone male. The sense of territoriality was almost overwhelming as it rushed over him, but Arturo had a head for business and he understood that this might be a recruitment opportunity. Him and his army of one were not enough. He would need to build his Family, which meant active recruitment.

Course altered, Arturo headed in their direction shrugging through the underbrush as he approached the two — comically arriving just as the female (whom looked like she'd seen better days, perhaps) going for the male's bum with her teeth exposed. He was comfortable midst the tall, dark sequoias — a king without his kingdom — and though the melanistic coywolf was cautious enough to maintain his distance he was not threatened by their presence. Nor, since he saw this as an opportunity, was he bothered by their presence in his forest. He was amused, but given that he was without context he shouldn't perhaps have been, yet his amusement toyed at the corners of his lips all the same.

“Is that how you customarily greet others?” The gangster called out to the female, maintaining his distance from the two loners.

Arturo's head canted ever so slightly to the side, unfazed by the slight lift of the male's lips as the other's gaze took him in. It was a look that Arturo knew well and had been subjected to for his life. Some wolves did not care and others did. As if he had any control over whose seed his mother had allowed to root in her womb. He was no longer the small child so easily bothered by what others thought of his mixed parentage. His species as "coywolf" did not define him. Did not make him. Perhaps it had molded him, encouraged him to become what he was today: Caennasach. The Sovereign. It was clear that he would need to work on claiming it, first at it's open borders and then at the borders protected by the sentinel spires. Only, however, after he dealt with this ...whatever exactly it was he had stumbled in upon. “I admire straight-forwardness,” The gangster responded to the woman's words that called out in the distance between them.

She made a proposition at first Arturo thought to the male she had bitten the rump of, only to extend it to the gangster who regarded her with an subtle albeit amused glint to his fiery eyes. “I will not turn down an offer of a coordinated hunt,” The Ceannasach responded, fixating his gaze upon her for a few moments before it flickered to the male and rested with the both of them in his view. “But how about applying those propositions to something bigger?” It sounded like she had a head for business and immediately Arturo was intrigued. He addressed the both of them as he spoke, awaiting for further inquiry or disinterest from either party. He would not freely offer information if neither was willing, after all. He had some semblance of secrecy to maintain.

The male answered simply with “food” and when Arturo turned his gaze from Gristle it came to settle upon the woman with subdued interest next. She reasoned out his true meaning and spoke it aloud. “That's right,” Arturo spoke with a sage nod of his head, his ears cupping forth when she spoke her own proposition. That was a tall order — there was no guarantee that the three of them would be able to take down whatever she had her sights on but as a business man he wasn't one to turn down propositions that might give way to a win. It was a coin toss. It could be a win or a loss but Arturo was not unwilling to take the risks of chance. Sometimes, you couldn't fix everything to give you the advantage. Sometimes trust had to be placed in the inevitable unknown. “Very well.” The gangster murmured, stepping towards the two, giving a subtle gesture towards the female that she should take lead of this hunt. It was her suggestion, after all.

Their hunt had failed. Victory had been in their fucking grasp and it just slipped away like smoke through clenched fingers. It was hard to tell where they had been outwitted by their hapless prey and the gangster did not feel that it was the fault of any of them. For three complete strangers whom had never coordinated nor hunted with each other they had almost been crowned victors of the hunt; and as far as the gangster was concerned that was something. Although disappointment was a bitter pill for Arturo to swallow the Fearghal monarch reluctantly downed it with some struggle as his pace slowed and his sides heaved with heavy pants as he worked to cool himself down from the heat of the chase and catch his breath. Hunts were not predictable and this was an unfortunate ending to many of them. Even a coordinated pack well accustomed to hunting with one another lost.

He spared a glimpse at the lumbering male even as the woman kept going and surprise flitted across the gangster's expression for a moment as she returned to them. He had expected her, given her ultimatum before their unsuccessful hunt, to just keep going. Failures were just as important as the victories, the gangster had always believed. Without failing you could never learn from your mistakes, you would not feel the drive to push yourself to achieve that victory. “For strangers who had never hunted together before that could have gone a lot worse.” Arturo observed simply, his gaze resting upon the lone pair. In fact, he thought they hadn't done half bad all things considered. No one had suffered injuries — except perhaps to their pride. They had gotten close to victory but at the last minute had slipped up. The shades of grey was what Arturo was interested in and capitalized upon as opposed to bleakly staring at the stark black and white of the situation.

The look that Arturo gave the burly male when he not-so-subtly pinned their failure upon him could only have been described as deadpan, unimpressed. He didn't appreciate the blame being placed at his paws lest it was actually his fault; but then Arturo was man enough to admit if he was a fault for something rather than pin it on someone else. Disregarding and ignoring the other man, his gaze flickered to Furiosa when she came back to them, rolled his eyes at her display towards the burly man before his gaze was drawn back to her upon her approach. At her inquisition he obliged, informing them vaguely of Teaghlaigh — what he was willing to tell being unable to gauge true interest level — before the three parted ways, with Arturo's path taking him deeper into the heart of his soon-to-be home.