Firefly Ravine i know you must know it now, my organs have stoned

It became apparent that these Seadogs were little more than sniveling cowards to the viking as the time ticked by and none else answered the call. His cruel sneer turned to one of disgust. The bi-toned male answered Caiaphas' demands refusing to show them what she had asked, instead offering some bullshit story about how no one bothered to stock caches. As far as Kjalarr could tell the borders were still present, as if until this moment, they had been desperately clinging to a crumbling society. The Fates were kind to Saltwinter. This was the Seadog's fate for settling so close to another pack. They had fallen into ruin while Saltwinter's empire grew. Of course, it was no wonder, Kjalarr thought. Their leader hadn't even bothered to show up. A leader that did not rise to defend their own turf, a territory they had assured themselves they had every right to be on, well, that was no leader at all.

“Coward.” Kjalarr spat at the male's retreating form. It disgusted him: the utter lack of loyalty he had for what had once been; but then again loyalty meant everything to Kjalarr and to one who held it in such high esteem would find any that showed disloyalty the scum of the earth. “Perhaps he spoke the truth about their caches,” Kjalarr allowed: the famine had only recently ended but Kjalarr wasn't so eager to believe that. “but we should scour the territory just in case.” And take what they could, of course, if there was anything to be found.