Sea Lion Shores like the day before

Luck? Out of the words the ragged beast had spoken this was the one that Arturo had zeroed in on and though it did not readily give way on his calm and distanced demeanor it insulted him. It left a sour, bad taste in his mouth. Nothing that Arturo had done had anything to do with luck. He didn't even believe in it. Accordingly, he didn't really believe all that much in fate, either. He was a man that forged his own path, tempered and carved it from the vast unknown. There was no such thing as luck, he scoffed mentally. There was only determination and persistence. Hard work, patience and the reap of rewards. “Luck has nothing to do with it.” Arturo disagreed simply, the smoky reticence of his accented voice weaving his disapproval at such a word.

“Would you allow wolves to freely toe your borders and take food from grounds that you consider the pack's hunting grounds?” Arturo asked, ignoring the question at large. The Ceannasach wasn't going to answer it because he, himself, was an extremely territorial beast. Trespassers were taken as the gang's prisoners and their fate was decided by The Family as a whole though more oft than not it ended with death. Territories touching borders were more of a courtesy thing, for him. He was not a fan of having neighbors up his ass. It sparked too much discontent, and cut off migrating herds. They were more like to travel elsewhere than risk getting too close to packs that were too close together. Whether that meant wolves of Teekon Wilds had sticks up their asses or not ...well that was up for the other male to decide for himself.

The conversation did not last long after that and eventually the two males parted ways.