Ravensblood Forest in a cave on a failed bit of terraforming

There seemed to be a lingering doubt within the stranger, which was alright. Nassim could recall only a few stragglers to his natal pack's own borders, and while they had been accepted readily, he knew it was not a common practice to harbor everyone. Every family was different. He did, however, bask in the praise he received from the other wolf; being honest was one thing he couldn't avoid, sometimes to the point of being pointedly rude (which Nassim always apologized profusely for). His father had once tried to teach him to "speak only when you have something important to say" and somehow that translated in Nassim's mind to, "speak openly". It was no always so easy to be so open, but he tried.

I get it, you don't want me to run off as soon as spring hits, and he could understand that. Nassim had no intention of abandoning the place if he managed to make a name for himself; he knew that passing wolves flaunted their abilities before the guards back home in order to gain access to the pack, and that's what he had tried to do. All he could do was hunt. Hakon had been adamant that at least one of his children become a proficient tracker, stalker, and provider. The pressure had been placed chiefly upon Nassim (which could've been why he ran off at the first inclination). I swear, sir, as he spoke Nassim took on a regal pose, lifting his head as if to challenge Arturo, but it was a jest; he was trying to imitate the harsh, stern, always serious Hakon: If you can use me, I'm all yours. I'll earn your trust and show you that I'll be a decent addition to the cum-late.

Oh, Nas.