Silvertip Mountain In the shadow of the mountain

Getting yourself in trouble per usual, Phocion chastised himself. Under the steely gaze of these two giants, who were growing angrier by the minute, he began to shrink, keeping his eyes lowered. A red-hot flush of something akin to humilation washed through him--he hated the feeling.

"My apologies," he said gently, keeping his tone soft and level. This mouth of yours is going to kill you one day. Keep your damned jaws shut. "I meant no disrespect. This is my first foray into pack life. I have much to learn."

He looked up an inch or so, still not daring to meet their eyes full-on. "You're right. I will have to prove myself worthy. But I do not make empty promises. When I say I will be loyal, when I say I will fight, I really do mean it."

That was the drawback of growing up alone. No one had ever taught him proper wolf etiquette; it was left on him to learn it little by little, at whatever cost to himself. His growing larger stemmed from youthful insecurity, not disrespect. It did no good to tell them that now. All he could do was apologize, and be humble and truthful.

"There's not much food here now, but whatever is left I will hunt for the pack. Whatever enemies may come, I will shed blood for you all." Phocion bowed his head low. "I assure you of that."