Larksong Grotto what are we made of but hunger and rage?

Warbone listened, but did not look. He stood parallel to their conversation, several yards away, watching the breezy shadows for a hint of others— Grotto wolves. Though he did not suspect ambush, with such an amenable alpha male and a non-attendant alpha female, he felt the need to search for it regardless. Her absence, after all, could signify that she was waiting in the wings with a surge of Lark wolves at her back coming for the throat of his current stead. Paranoid, perhaps, but paranoia kept him busy just as much as it kept him alive.

Reek agreed to something that Warbone himself had a tough time swallowing. As a pack wolf, obeying her was easy, but given his own territory, he could predictably say that he'd agree to this. His loyalty, however, remained as long as he was Dragon and as long as she kept him. He caught the motion of her head just then, and turned, padding to her side slowly, prepared to lead her off. "Reek," he murmured in farewell, his tone somewhat to be assumed as polite. For all his brutishness and severe outward appearances, he seemed to have more manners and formal persuasion than expected. Demonstrated as the secret serviceman wolf waited in relaxed readiness to escort the queen away.