Blacktail Deer Plateau Roman cavalry choirs are singing

Malachi felt conviction take root as soon as his answer left his lips, but he couldn't take back the affirmation he had given. Instead he simply listened and tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at his bones. There was nothing outstanding about the other man's demands. Such behaviour had been required in the Vale and at the Glacier, and Malachi expected no deviation in any other pack. But just because he'd been expected to fulfill these virtues didn't mean he had been able to. His life was a testament against them, for though he thought he had been protecting, his brother was dead, and what of the Glacier? He was their leader, they were his wolves, but he'd left like a snake, and forsook them to fight a war he had unknowingly provoked.

Malachi bit his tongue. Though the conviction to speak was sharp on his tongue, he could not confess his sins to this man. He would be rejected without a second glance: no wolf wanted the likes of him in their pack, a traitor and a coward. The only reason this Alpha was offering him a chance was because his shadows had not yet surfaced. Well, Malachi would make certain they never did. His father would frown upon him, but what did that matter now? He had already lost everything. He only wanted to leave all this behind.

"I'll take your offer, if you're sure you mean it," Malachi said quietly, voice steady despite the condemnation that raged within. He fought against the outcry of his heart and hardened himself against it. "My name's Malachi."