Sea Lion Shores like the day before

The older male turned down the olive branch the gangster extended him, refusing his help. A smart move, presumably, for it rarely came freely. Any advantage that he could secure for The Family was a chance that Arturo was willing to take. The nameless male made mention of his pack lands, drawing on the assumption that they were near. No doubt the scents upon his coat were quite the mixture: sea brine, Depth wolves, the woodsy musk of the forest and the scent of those he'd recruited to his Teaghlaigh, with a faint wisp of the Donnelaith carried by Chusi's scent. While it was amusing to Arturo that he was tempted to inquire which pack lands the nameless man spoke of, he did not give voice to this question nor draw attention to his internal amusement. “I have begun to lay claim to a forest just east of here.” Arturo informed with a gesture of his muzzle in Ravensblood's direction.

“So yes,” Arturo murmured. “near here.” In fact, he could extend these shores into hunting ground if he so wished but admittedly the gangster was content with keeping to his forest, the Gyrfalcon Keep and the Ridge that touched Ravensblood's borders as far as hunting grounds went. He was not fond of the delicacies of the sea. “And yours?” It was a courtesy question, really. Arturo didn't smell any particular scent of a pack on him and had pinned him as a loner. Arturo was beginning to gauge if it was worth to seize the opportunity, if the stranger was potential recruitment material who would at least hear his pitch or not.