Permafrost Hollows my bones do not taste of crown and silver

Names are shared between them, and he regards Sangilak in quiet study. It was difficult at first to discern, but he noticed that she was young— not yet sexually mature— and therefore of very minor interest to the vast male. She was also lacking in the feminine features he was fond of, but saw a practicality to her that he preferred over looks. And thus was the extent of his observation. Eyes flickered to Thuringwethil, Commander only by title, and only in direct correlation to the ranks of Sleeping Dragon. His choice to obey her was just that, a choice. And it had been made by and large by a desire to rest in the assured safety of a pack, which currently was led under the guidance of a young, inexperienced female, whose potential he respected more than anything else about her.

Warbone was largely unpredictable, and he could decide to terminate their unspoken agreement at any moment, but for now, he was content not to have to think too much for himself. It was a welcome reprieve from years without any direction or followers to speak of. While he had the capacity and prowess to lead, he had been mostly disinterested in the venture if only because of the amount of responsibility that came with it— and Warbone had always appreciated his ability to come and go as he would. Thuringwethil had yet to prohibit him though, so he was disinterested in rebelling.

"A wolf— Reek— has settled into the grotto northwest of us. He seeks an audience with you," he said plaintively, twitching his ears as he watched her. He appeared neither eager to stay or leave, his face as impassive as his body language.