Sheepeater Cliff hate or glory

She was a curious creature, one that Rhanno himself toyed with idea of recruiting. Contrary to her assumptions, he was not a leader (as much as it pained him to admit). He had once been a mighty Khal, with an army as strong as the bison they hunted, until his own son took him down. Damn Tihollo. Rhanno's features unknowingly wrinkled at the thought of the traitorous bastard. He had given him everything, trained him to be a mighty warrior, and his reward was exile. He would be a leader again, though, he was old but not feeble.

"Only us," he replied to her question, before inwardly cursing, thinking maybe he should have been a little more vague. Did she think he was already part of a pack? He wasn't sure if he smelt like it or not yet, though was keenly aware that he smelt different, compared to the regular scents of these new lands. Dry plains, apparently, were a rarity here. He cocked his head towards her, asking without words the same question. Was she part of a pack?