Bramblepoint godless and free

The only wolf fit to lead Rosalyn Rivaini was she herself, but she held her tongue on putting that notion forth.  "Small eh, and likes to hide in caves.  Sounds to me like you caught yourself a couple of rats."  A queen rat.  Perhaps she could manage that, for the time being.  Rats weren't creatures who could demand much by way of loyalty - and they usually didn't expect much either.

Hopefully the second rat was cleaner than the first, she thought with an internal wince as she got a good look at the vocative man's companion.  She'd hardly seen a sorrier eyeful.  I'd freeze gladly before sharing a den with that mess.  Fleas were nasty business.

"Alright, timador.  You and this 'Blackface' might have a deal."  She turned to look at the older man, wondering if he would take the offer.  From the looks of it, he wasn't about to get any better ones.