Neverwinter Forest At the edge of the woods

Scimitar, the elder wolf had called out. That must be the leader of this group, or at least the one in charge of deciding whether he stayed or left this place.

Faolán resisted the urge to flinch or take a step back as the man thrust his nose quite close, taking a deep sniff in his general direction. He was a bit relieved when the stranger ended this olfactoral interrogation, though he understood it was likely necessary.

"I'm very new to Teekon," Faolán said in answer to the statement about his good health. "Arrived here after most of the locusts left." He then focused his attention on the burly wolf's queries. "I'm the fourth of four sons." It was a tale he told many times--this would not be the last. He kept it brief, for the sake of both his and, more importantly, his counterpart's sanity. "My old pack was crowded, well-off. There was no need for me. So I left for opportunities elsewhere."

Faolán eyed the stranger curiously, though keeping his gaze soft so as to not look too pesky or inquisitive. This was a wolf he had no interest in disgruntling. "Pardon my poor manners, I've forgotten to ask for your name. You know mine, after all," he said civilly.