Redtail Rise tell me that i'm still breathing

Patrolling was never supposed to be his first priority, but somehow when Saena left, it had been the first thing he ever did everyday. He supposed it was because of the various dangers that lurked beyond the pack's borders, the dangers that had kept Junior and Saena from returning to the Rise, to their home. Arion could not let any stranger slip past him and possibly endanger the lives of his packmates, he had to protect them, not only because the Alpha had entrusted him with the role of leader but because they were now a family. Sure, he only knew a few of them quite well, but they had stuck together for this long (which wasn't very long), they founded a pack together, surely it had to mean something.

Arion was never one for politeness or manners, sure, he had been raised as a bastard prince (but a prince nonetheless) and had been taught to greet others in a polite way but he found absolutely no use for them. Why should he beat around the bush when he spoke? Tell others it was nice to meet them even though it had been terrible to even see them, let alone talk with them and 'meet' them. To him, it was illogical and lacked sense, so he discarded those skills when he left Cerberus's Pavilion, if the wolves of this world disliked the way he spoke, they could just go to fucking Tartarus for all he cared.

However Arion only hated manners and politeness when they were spoken, when they had to be done to a superior, he believed it to be necessary for it was the way of the wolf. Ranks made them orderly, made them a pack, made them something larger, bigger than solitary animals, made them stronger and therefore was needed. So, he was glad that the newcomer knew how to show respect to a higher rank. However, sucking up to someone? That was an entirely different thing to respect. Thank Zeus that none of the wolves he had met so far were suck ups.

The name which the smoky wolf offered rang a bell in his head. Cocking his head slightly, Arion fixed his honey orbs on the yearling, "Mercury. Isn't that the name of a god? Roman version of Hermes, god of travelers?" Shifting his weight slightly, he continued, "Are you going for the Outrider trade by any chance?" The trade for wanderers, diplomats and explorers seemed popular in these wilds, perhaps it was because many of the wolves were not born here, but came here. Travelers from different places and lands.

"No matter, care to join me on patrol? Two pairs of eyes and noses are better than one," the stallion said and began trotting forward, clear that the words had not been a question but a gentle command.