Porcupine Ridge the devil and his sons

What Farstep expected was utmost submission, at least enough to prove that the wolf standing on the edge of Taggarik's ridge was capable of following others. Farstep may not have been the alpha but to a lone wolf seeking acceptance into a pack, that pack's hierarchy was irrelevant—all were superiors in that moment. The flattening of ears, the upward tilt of a supplicating snout, the press of tail against hindquarters or at least a very low, full-bodied wag would have been all very acceptable actions. After all, Romulus had approached the pack. It was only logical that he show absolute deference to those who called these lands home; it was a sign of intelligence and respect in Farstep's feral world. Unfortunately for both of them, Romulus did not show utmost submission. Hell, he scarcely showed even a modicum of it.

Though the youth brought his head lower and pulled his ears back, his head was not craned upward with respect, and his tail... his tail was the biggest issue. Held only slightly lower than Farstep's own, with a stiff wagging of only the tip suggesting that the wolf was tense rather than friendly, and that the posturing was relatively significant. In other words, Romulus' body language suggested that he did not truly acknowledge Farstep's position above him. Definitely not acceptable here. Arrogance did not sit well with the tawny wolf anywhere, let alone where his pack resided. His face transformed into a mask of offense as his muzzle wrinkled over, with lips threatening to pull back over his teeth in a silent warning grimace. His tail, waving amiably just above his hindquarters before, stiffened completely and rose into a line above his hips. No sir, he was not a happy pack wolf, and Romulus now had about ten seconds to swallow his pride and correct his posture before the drifter would deem him a threat to Taggarik's authority and send him packing.