The Floodlands feel like i don't even know me

The hybrid did not seem pleased with Skellige’s coarse and self-evident words. As was expected; the feral brute’s bedside manner was lacking. It was evident that this stranger was growing weary of the inky brute’s constant barrage in regards to his catch, but the Cairn was not likely to give up on his pursuit. A warning fell from the other’s lips. Stealing from the coywolf would be unwise. Chuckling, Skellige shook his head a bit and took another step forward. His russet gaze caught wind of the notable signs of defense. This slender creature would be willing to fight for the scrap of food. Unwise would be a common trait in their interaction with each other. The hybrid was a man of words – a man who knew how to get what he needed by using charm and witticism – but Skellige had never been such a man. He knew only brutality and force.
 
When the implication began falling from the stranger’s mouth, it did not entirely take Skellige by surprise. Of course he was seeking to expand his own empire. It was not the first time that the silver-ribbed titan had been offered a place within a pack. Others had sought him for his prowess and some still hunted him for his brutishness. They were not fools for wanting to build their own union, and certainly not so for wanting a creature of force on their side. Still, there was a moment of question in the pitch-colored wolf’s mind.
 
Narrowing his brows thoughtfully, Skellige held the gaze of the other male with an intense expression. “You would seek to add a savage thief to your empire,” he prompted with another chuckle. “I am here to build my own dominion. What would bring me to abandon my quest and join you?” he drawled. It should have been a fair question to a man of thought and word. If anything, Skellige felt as though this half-breed should understand the desire that it took to lead a man away from home to build on his own.