Ankyra Sound not afraid of the storm that comes my way

“Oh?” He inquired, curiosity lighting up his expression, scarred muzzle parting, wondering who this unknown Stavanger Bay born wolf was. He'd already made the assumption that this place had once been a pack, if her words were anything for him to go off of. Kjalarr didn't truthfully know all that much about Stavanger Bay, having been too young when he'd been swept away from his biological family. He didn't know how old it had been when Charon (he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that basically a kid himself had been allowed to make a big decision like that) had decided to disband it. He didn't even know that Kevlyn was Charon's biological brother; nor that the Bay and the Sound had not necessarily gotten along. These details were shadowy unknowns to him, things that had passed long before his birth.

He did not carry the grudges of his father. Ragnar's enemies were not Kjalarr's own. This allowed him to feel the proper amount of sympathy when Caiaphas' next words broke the silence. “Oh,” The boy corrected himself, somewhat...deflated as his ears slicked back to his skull and shoulders lowered. “I'm sorry,” He offered, though there was nothing he could do. If she knew that, he assumed she'd seen it happen and thus it was not a case like his: where he was alive but thought to be deceased. “that's terrible.” He scowled at the ever darkening horizon, wondering what kind of monster would kill another wolf.

Killing might have ran in his blood, but presently he did not know much of anything about the type of wolves that he descended from.