Otter Creek of an austere ebon tide

Though he hadn't asked the question, he found the answer to it in the response he was given. It was good that the packs seemed neutral with one another, at least for the time being. Even if he could handle himself, Mordecai didn't purposely put himself in the way of harm if he could help it. With no pack to back him up, he knew the likelihood of finding help in the bout of an injury was even more unlikely. Most packs were tight-knit communities on their own, and in the position where more than one was common, their resources were more often strained than shared.

That said, there was something smug in the wording that explained what his companion was doing out there. It sounded sour, and left a sour taste in his mouth at that. Mordecai wasn't sure whether or not this particular fellow was that fresh off the boat to feel that way, so to speak. Maybe he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed either, but that road could have gone both ways. Still, he played the hand of assumption like a veteran baccarat player, and bet on the banker. “So you're using them then? Not like a wolf to go against his ideals,” he said as though he could really back up the claim. He tried to sound curious, but the sourness he acquired trickled through. But if there was a lack of devotion towards the pack he had joined up with, Mordecai hardly saw a reason to be there. No pack existed without the loyalty of others, and that required a certain degree of similar devotion.