Sawtooth Spire a city that endures

First to garner attention was that of a little brazen beast of needle milk teeth and sharp eyes. A pleased stare crept along features, looking down sharply-cut nose at the little lion puffing up chest. Silence met the demand for a short while, gaze sifting over every little feature that was fresh, new, and devoid of life's hardships. Once, so long ago, the spider had been just as daring and bold. Muzzle poised down towards the pup, speaking a murmured replied. "Your worst nightmare."

An assortment of wolves arrived to their leader's call, fiery eyes raking over each one before settling on just one. A paler female with a scarred eye that bore the color of ice and snow. Her features were square and rippled in strength that suited the bear-women the Sawtooth collected. There was little doubt her design was structured on force. The emotion she wished to convey was met with a darkening of eyes, inky features submerging into a dangerous glare. Any warmth the little Spire progeny had created was eroded with a stony stare. Instinctively the spider shifted into his bear-like beta before the brief threat was tucked away into memory for later. Tonravik's approach and the fire alpha's words took precedence. 

While the announcement resounded into the silence, there was no worry of the Eta selecting prime real estate. The notion of living near, around, or in the vicinity of others was not an option. The inky wolf appreciated silence, introverted nights alone, and the company of the stars. Ears swiveled faintly, having nothing to add and, thus, remaining silent within the presence of the rest.