Silvertip Mountain i'm so sick of being sober

It wasn't long before the swarthy male was greeted by an attentive guardian. His ears lifted upon his proud ebony crown and only the edge of his gaze grazed the female's eyes as a show of respect for he had noted her body posture and the position of her tail. She was obviously a wolf of high rank in this pack, an Alpha Female and if not that, then a Beta. While he did tower over her, he somehow made himself look smaller and averted his gaze respectfully, adhering to all laws of submission a wolf should show to their superior. His pride stung slightly, but the male ignored it. It would heal.

Her voice was accented, that was the first thing the male noticed. Her native tongue must not be English, then. Wasn't surprising. He'd met a lot of wolves whose native tongues were not the common tongue on his travels, they just made them all the more interesting. "Yes, I did," he replied in his soft, low baritone. "I wish to join your pack," he stated calmly, going straight to the subject. "I'm a good warrior, guardian and hunter and a scout. I'm best at fighting and guarding but I do not lack in other essential skills as well. I'm...not a good caretaker though, or a naturalist. I'm also more used to hunting independently but I'll try my best to hunt in a group." The ebony wolf ended his speech rather sheepishly as if having weaknesses was not normal and dug his blunt claws into the already indented snow.

"My name's Will," he added with an afterthought and awaited the Alpha's comments.