Ankyra Sound No one's pet

Kjalarr had been tending to his patrols — which besides hunting meager game for what was left of the pathetic caches of the Saltwinter wolves — though they had been bare before the pestilence had stolen through the lands following in the wake of the swarm for the Seadog pack had parked upon their doorstep, closing off that avenue for prey. It had never seemed fair that Saltwinter had taken the brunt of it: they had been hit by both and yet there was a surge of pride for them...that they were enduring despite the obstacles thrown in their path, seemingly without mercy. If the Gods were testing them, then surely they had passed and their luck was due to turn around soon. The sprouts of life had taken rapidly: seen to Kjalarr as varying gray foliage, and begun to fill the once barren and skeletal limbs and ground. This, at the very least, was promising.

The silver and sand dual colored Viking had been close when the howl arose and thus did not take him long to reach her: a small and slender creature draped in a coat of ivory. Upon his approach, Kjalarr's tail rose over his back in a display of dominance and rank. The Beta drew in her scent through flared, black leathery nostrils — a loner, though there was a few unknown scents upon her pelt, fading and not nearly strong enough to be the scent of another pack. There was something familiar in the slender craft of her muzzle and body, he noted as he assessed her quietly. It reminded him of Caiaphas though the truth was that neither woman looked anything alike: except for the fact that they were both coywolves.

“This is Saltwinter, and I am Kjalarr, it's Beta,” He broke his silence and spoke to her, offering an introduction of the pack and himself. “What do you seek here?” Although, he could guess; but still he knew what it meant to assume and deigned not to jump to conclusions.