Stavanger Bay we are the warriors

Oh no, what had he done? Struggling to withhold a grimace, the yearling's ears fell as Charon took his words and went running with them as it suddenly dawned on him that he was, in fact, an heir. Did he not already know this? Atreyu was pretty sure that was how it worked; the children of the Alpha were usually the ones to take the helm when their parents grew too old to lead. He wasn't sure how he would feel being under the command of a wolf such as Charon (not to mention someone younger than himself, too), but even that wouldn't coerce him to abandon the Bay.

He dipped his head with a semi-forced smile, wondering why the other boy's attitude had done a 180. Was it the heir thing? If so, he had quite the ego, this kid. His comment, though, encouraged a wider grin from Atreyu before he shrugged in return. "Way of the world, kid," he said casually, as if he were some wise old wolf. Truthfully, he had been guilty of disappearing once before too, going off in search of his family. He had failed to find them, of course, and realised that Stavanger Bay was his family now, even if he didn't like all the members.

"But, hey, if they ever come back, they can always be slaves for a little bit," he added with a quirk of his head, perhaps much too fond of the whole slave idea that Ragnar had. It was useful, and made more sense to Atreyu than simply chasing out traitors and trespassers when they needed a few extra capable bodies. When Charon was Alpha — at this thought the boy winced, had he already resigned himself to that fate? — he hoped he would keep up the tradition.