killers linger the least [attn: jinx and/or njal]

As they paused, he tilted his head slightly, his one ear making his head seem slightly more lopsided than it normally would if he was holding his skull straight. She explained why his reasoning made no sense to her, but she must've known a different breed of pregnant females because all the ones he knew had taken to relaxing and being waited on rather than preforming regular duties. That didn't make the females any less vicious or any more pretentious, but they did it so as to ensure the health of their litter. Litters had been quite large on Hollow Mountain, ranging from seven to ten pups each time.

He suppose his homeland's method worked just as well as the Creek's, but he didn't bother to explain all this to Jinx. She knew her ways, just as he knew his. Besides that he was a male, and almost wholly uninterested in broods that were not his own. And having never taken a mate, it would suffice to say that he cared about no whelps at this time.

As the pair, night and day, began to move again, Jinx began to tell him of their neighbors, albeit in an unconventional manner. Unlike any requisition he had received before, the one-earred brute was told that he should intentionally distress their neighbors; and while this didn't seem like anything that Fox would suggest, he found himself appealed by the consideration of it. After all, Haunt had spent much of his life being a vicious nuisance (stealing prey, antagonizing leaders, intentionally trespassing, etc.) but these were saved for his healthier months in spring and summer—which would account for his more sober attitude in the winter as it were.

"I need to put on a few pounds, but I am not opposed to compelling mayhem," he said at length, flicking his one ear because the other missing appendage was testament to his words. "What does this leader of Blacktail look like?" he asked, gravelly tone barely registering as curious.