Phoenix Maplewood my flesh and soul are still at war

At first it appeared to Mercury as if neither of them would break their silence, and though the young DiSarinno could not speak for the other male, he personally was contended to simply watch, returning the favor of the other boy. While it might have been the polite thing to offer a hello, or greeting of an equal standing but it hadn't been him that had been the one following. No, he'd been the one to be followed. Not that Mercury could prove either way if he was being followed or not, it could have easily been pure circumstance that Pura's path had crossed Mercury's own. Mercury watched as the other licked his lips, and allowed the subtle flare of black, leathery nostrils to inhale what he could decipher of Pura's scent. His scent was not littered by others, so surely a loner such as himself, then? Of course Pura could have easily washed the scent off to carry about some leader's orders or something. The other yearling was built like a tank when compared to Mercury's svelte form, clear which one of them was built for blunt and brutish attacks and which was built for speed. Still, size alone would not take or save a life, something that the Vikings had taught with a reverence, and thus Mercury did not put much stock into such thoughts and easily dismissed the size comparison.

The stranger's question was strange, and ears slicked back to rest at half mast atop his skull. “The pack? There are many packs in these Wilds. Which one do you speak of?” The answer was no. He wasn't apart of any pack, though he supposed that he could easily lie and claim to still be apart of Stavanger Bay. It wasn't as if would be an entire lie at that, he'd been born in Horizon Ridge, later to become the Bay and surely his birth place — which he assumed was still a pack — could stand for something.