King Elk Forest I'm not living, I'm just killing time

Stealing his attention first, and causing Giancarlo to stop in his tracks, was the voice of his sister who wished to join him on his hunt. She must have followed. Turning his head back to regard her, he rolled his shoulders forward with a shrug in response. He was not one to turn away company or help, especially on a hunt -- but if she tagged along, he knew he would have to share. "If you want," he replied indifferently before returning to his search.

He took a few more paces forward before his hunt was interrupted a second time. This time, by a stranger who's bodylanguage screamed aggression. Giancarlo's initial reaction had been one of surprise. He recoiled and his hackles bristled, but as the initial wave of confusion wore off, his body language loosened.

They had been lucky to not dig up any problems with local packs so far, but Giancarlo had always been sure his traveling family would eventually stir the pot. Before he could properly react, however, Primo rolled onto the scene and made a fool of them all. "Pops— clamp it," he muttered from behind gritted teeth. Giancarlo dipped his head in reverence and hoped the rest of his family would follow suit, for their own safety. "Show the lady some respect," the Don tersely added. Respect was a tenant of their culture— and while Primo had earned his right to be a grumpy old man, Giancarlo would not let that fly.