Ouroboros Spine hard time forgetting, even harder forgiving

Tonravik was not a woman who disappointed others. She was a woman who went above and beyond the call of duty, albeit in a colder, crueler course than most. The behemoth looked over to the streamlined man before her; he was tall, and he was lean. The wolf had no real imagination to speak of, but knew his body would be useful in battle evading and doling out swift, hellish bites to exhaust and eventually defeat. Tonravik was not an evasive wolf herself; she crowded the enemy. With her bulk, she was made to be a battering ram and give them no room to breathe thereafter. She was smothering on the battlefield.

The Tartok wolf hadn't any idea of his betrayals, but had no intention of doing so herself. She was loyal to those loyal to her. And as he spoke his name, Tonravik blinked. Sinaaq. It was Inuit, and something she recognized. Her head swung in his direction. Edge of ice, it meant. He had marked the border as well, and for that, she chuffed amicably at him. The woman had given her name at the meeting, and did not think Sinaaq a dumb wolf and so did not remind him.

"Do you have any roles here," she rumbles then. She was not a thoughtful wolf by any means, nor was she smart; she was simple, brutish. But Tonravik knew the wolf was as strong as its pack, and wanted them to be strong, working together for the common cause of keeping others out and becoming the most formidable pack there was, here.