Broken Antler Fen Shapeshifter

"Moose?" Valtyr echoed as his ears orbited forth, intruded. He had seen the beast a few times in the Taiga - but they were prone to aggression. The sharp hooves and hulking body of that prey was known to be dangerous, and do the Sveijarn had never challenged such an animal. Deer were an easier target for the pack he had lived in... which brought him to wonder... how may wolves called the Fen their home?

Yet before he could inquire further about hunting strategy in the marsh, Sebastian welcomed the young man into the fold. Valtyr smiled, grizzled tail swaying to and fro happily. "Excellent," he responded, bright gaze looking towards the benevolent leader expectantly. One condition was noted, however: stay away from the ladies. Valtyr could barely contain a hiccup of nervous laughter. He was a passive and calm creature by nature; good-willed and thoughtful in every sense. As a child he had been shy and introverted - and still was to some degree... especially with the opposite gender. In his last pack, he had tried to court one of the receptive females - only to have been thoroughly shut down by the alpha male. An important lesson had been learned that day (one all young, ambitious males seemed to learn)... one Valtyr was not soon to forget,

Val shifted his weight and composed himself, "I understand," he told Sebastian, tone assured in this statement. He did not wish to rouse the ire of the wolf so kind to take him in. Soon, his awkwardness passed. "That sounds unusual," he said, noting that they slept in a communal den, "but I like it. I would be honored to become apart of your pack. What do you call it?" He asked, not knowing the name of the wetlands.