Northstar Vale Wuthering

Dagfinn lowered himself almost imperceptibly as the unfamiliar wolf approached, tail sweeping tentatively behind him. Though the other had taken on a more assertive stance, he did not yet appear to be inclinced toward violence. Dagfinn drew a few steps nearer as well, nostrils flaring as he took in the other's scent, inquiring. His nose told him that the wolf before him had a decent -and mostly male - following, but perhaps there would be room for one more.

"Could you use another set of teeth?" Dag asked, realizing as he said the words that he intended to try and join this wolf and his fellows. A pack was not what he'd been looking for in these mountains, but a pack was what he found. Besides - it was as if he was likely to get a better option down the line.

Inwardly, Dag wondered what the other would make of his own scent. Though he'd never formally broken ties with Arthendal, he assumed that, by now, they would consider him a deserter. That was fine; he didn't plan on going back there and he doubted they would follow him here. Their scents had long faded from his pelt, at any rate, and Amber's and Grayday's had probably gone the same way. Would this wolf think him a loner? Is that was he truly was?