Moonspear hello from the otherside

While Tev hadn't necessarily called her 'pipsqueak' to irritate her, he found that he was slightly taken aback by the smile she gave him when he spoke it. In his experience, smaller wolves tended to not like when their shortness was capitalized upon (Thistle comes to Victoria's mind). Small but mighty his mother would claim but not every small wolf was outfitted with the fiery fuse his mother had, Tev had to remind himself. She wasn't particularly offended by his shortening of 'Pipsqueak' into a nickname so Tev took that it was ok for him to call her that — not that he would have stopped even if she would have been offended. He liked nicknames better, he found. When he'd went by Jorunn he had nicknamed himself Juju; but he had long since outgrown the name he'd been given at birth. Kjalarr was what the phantom of Ragnar called him in his dreams, Kjalarr Eitri...but he was still Tev. He would not so quick forsake the name he'd decided to take shortly before the fall of Jade Fern Grove and the Frostfur's departure from the Teekon Wilds. It was apart of him just as much as they were.

“You should find my mother: Thistle Cloud. She's our healer ...the best healer.” Tev saw no wrong in boasting of his mother's talents, plus he felt like he was helping to point Pips in the right direction as a fellow good pack-mate. While, in the end either Charon or Amekaze would award her the rank there was no one better to confer with then Thistle. “Well maybe I can test your hunting skills someday,” Hunter and Mercenary were Tev's trade goals, though currently he was contented to keep his focus upon his patrol. 

Without him noticing she'd managed to pry a crack in his wall; the fact which went unknown to Tev who wouldn't have considered it anything because he was talking about pack things. He was just trying to do his part even if he wasn't particularly sure of his place in Moonspear nor if it was going to be permanent; yet, it had always been this way. This uncertainty had always hung over his head like the blade of an ax ready to drop upon him at any breadth of a moment. “Moose?” He blurted as he walked, letting out a loud, indignant snort. He was not a moose, but despite the fact that he rather fancied himself to be something much more fierce ...like a bear or lion or something cool he didn't otherwise dispute her chosen nickname for him in return. How could he without being hypocritical? He couldn't. “Mercenary and Hunter.”