Running away, finding myself

Thank you. :-)

Tezcacoal was stoic, stalwart in his stance as he studied her wondering who she was, her purpose at his borders, and why she'd sought them out. He did not ask these things though. He knew from experience that they would come out on their own time. Perhaps not always — for there were always those wolves who stood at the border tight lipped. That, the Rekkr had never understood. What was the point of joining a pack if you didn't want to tell it's leader what you had to offer them. Tight lipped wolves were more receptacle to receiving his rejection then wolves that were open. Tezcacoatl did not turn wolves away (lest he had a good reason too, mind) but their place within his pack wasn't a stable one until they earned the Warrior trade. It was how the Ridge operated, taking elements of the Vikings and Amazons; both cultures were formidable and feared warriors. 

The woman spoke a greeting, which was followed shortly thereafter with a name. Iris. Simple. Easy for him to remember. Though there was a soft start of surprise that resounded within Tezcacoatl when she named his pack. Now that was curious, he found. As far as Tezcacoatl was aware not many knew of Frostfire Ridge's existence within the wilds. Only those who had once been apart of it. He wasn't aware that at least one of his fellow Northerner packs knew of it and thus he didn't even consider that any of the packs in the North knew of them (at least by name) anyway. He did not make his presence known by parlaying with them — had no desire too. Alliances were a waste of time and if Ragnar had taught Tezcacoatl anything it was that Alphas of other packs would always seek the best interest of their own pack first, breaking off any flimsy lie of an alliance in the first place. “You know the name of my pack? How?” Tezcacoatl pressed his curiosity and caution sparked. For now, everything else could wait to the chocolate coated Rekkr.