The Sunspire the gilded age has long been done

The irony that rolled out of Jace's mouth struck at a funny bone lodged somewhere in Mordecai's chest. He could have spoken tit for tat of the Spine; Mordecai had seen this lesson played out the hard way. It was no easy task, leading wolves and keeping a territory together and safe. Depending on the various tumult within, it was incredibly difficult to do so. But in some places, like the plateau or even this pack on the Spire, he imagined that the tasks were no different, just leisure. There was a calm air to either place, to those who led it, from what Mordecai could tell.

"Sometimes they're just arrogant, too eager to grow up," he said, agreeing with the statement his dark-haired counterpart made. "And sometimes, maybe they don't have a choice. I suppose everyone has a story to tell, or one to live out." He wondered if he had stayed in Sedona, where he would have been now. He wondered at times whether or not his father led, or if he had given the title away to another sibling worthy of it. Leadership was undeniably in his blood, but Mordecai evaded it where he could.

"But I don't worry too much over this place getting populated. It seems like its large enough to house us all so far and when it does hit that point, they'll branch out. Someday all that will be here will be a bunch of stubborn old folk." A chuckle left him, because Mordecai did truly believe that. It always seemed like at the end of things, it was always the stubborn folk left to hang onto things and keep them together.