Ravenshook Cliffs on the long way down

His snappish retorts had no affect on the neutral expression Taggarik bore. He was patient in most things, and he knew the sharp words were born out of sheer frustration. The most challenging of seasons approached and it put many on edge. Uncertainty was too prevalent, especially in the life of a lone wolf. It was in his own as well, but he head learned since to meet difficulties with sense, not frustration. It was this levelheadedness that drove him now.

"There's a mountain range north of here, on the other side of the long river." He said. "I'm assembling a pack. You can find me there. Or not." Tagg rolled his shoulders, and returned to his feet. He was no salesman, nor would he expect a pitch at his door should any of the wolves he invited show up. He pivoted, and at his leisure made to leave the younger wolf, having no want of simple conversation, preferring instead to tend to what he must as winter encroached.