«Across Salted Sea Foam»

The ebony male answered his questions calmly, which pleased the silver clad Roman. He had no use for stuttering, nervous, wimpy wolves after all, and the obsidian three year old in front of him clearly was not....a terribly pathetic creature which brought him a step closer to officially joining Bearclaw Valley. No doubt the male in front of him would be glad to know that (too bad he didn't), but Raziel himself was also glad that this wolf was passing his test with ease; he seemed an able wolf, and the Valley was lacking those.

It didn't hurt that Cry would never have known Kove as a leader, therefore would not drift to the Inuit's side, that is if the white male was ever so idiotic to do so. Hopefully, the Inuit would know his place; which was forever a subordinate.

"Caretaker huh? You don't seem like one to me. Care to elaborate on how you 'caretake?'" Raziel refrained from telling the bright eyed male that there were pups in the pack. After all, he did not know yet if the black wolf would be accepted into the ranks of Bearclaw Valley, and to the paranoid Roman, details such as pups should only be told when one was accepted. It was a necessary precaution.

Raziel had to stop himself from smiling (or scoffing for that matter) when the ebony said that he did not have a weakness. "Everyone has a weakness, whether you know it or not," he simply said.