Porcupine Ridge the devil and his sons

There was nothing weak about a show of submission, if anything it demonstrated a strength of character, wisdom in knowing one's place and how important that place was the survival and well-being of the pack. The black wolf knew what was coming. He had witnessed his subordinate's displeasure for a lack of regard of the order of things before, on the terrace to the west.

Farstep reacted as expected, intensifying his display, demanding the respect that was owed to him as a pack wolf on his own territory confronting a lone wolf that sought to live among them. Taggarik held his position, his lips pursing and brows raising as he peered down his muzzle at the young male. Really? his expression seemed to say. Fortunately, the loner realized his error and corrected his posture, but the thing about first impressions were that they came first, and there was only one of them to be had.

"Tsk tsk," Tagg chided humorously, winking at the prone boy. He would allow Farstep another moment of control before stepping in.