Northstar Vale Xoanon

Warbone listened to Onai mostly, feeling his kinship in the dark male strengthening as they talked more. At some point, he chuckled, giving his scarred head a soft shake. "Your home sounds a lot like mine. They worshiped violence and taught us that physical assertion is the only path to respect -- the only way to become legend," he snorted slightly, revealing his derision for his family, and for the wolf he had blindly been before. "But there are more fulfilling ways to live than merely tearing those  apart who wouldn't understand your power until it was too late. There is more to life than blood and conquering  pain."

Onai would be free to express himself in the vale. Anyone who pledged after him would need to make accommodations for the dark one in their life, and in the very least, he would be able to teach their wolves how to properly fight -- help raise the young in the ways of the blackened ones. Though Warbone never intended to have his children know such a life as he and Onai had, it would be more than useful for them to know of it all the same. "I was just as you are, when I stood at your primed age. Do not worry, Onai, I will guide you to true strength. One you cannot accomplish alone."

Neither of their pasts were of any consequence at this point. The Skeleton did not matter, Onai's brother had no power here; they would be wolves born anew in the vale, and Warbone was glad to hear him accept his extended invitation to join his stead. But a part of the black wolf's past did come to haunt them. The Solothurn male was not happy to hear that he wished to journey still, but he supposed it couldn't truly be helped. He nodded, grunting in assent to the man's wishes. "Would she return with you?" he thought to ask.