Dragoncrest Cliffs without the bad, the good disappears

Melchior nodded, his grin widening despite the carcass that filled his mouth. @Arlo. He nodded, pleased that she had remembered. Lowering his head, he tenderly dropped the grouse to the ground, licking his chops to slyly savour the taste. "And you're Tirgatao." He continued brightly, remembering the pale furred wolf from his previous home, pleased to see that more had followed.

She was older than him, and so they had very little interaction prior. As it was, yearlings either trained with each other, or with their mentors, as not to hinder the growth of more capable warriors. But Melchior was feeling rather bold this morning, perhaps pleased with himself for catching something. "Are you well enough this morning for a quick spar?" He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming mischievously.

If you win, I'll give you this grouse. If you lose, I'll only give you half. He spoke clearly, using the common tongue to enunciate each word. It was truly a tempting offer, with no poor outcome for his packmate. Furthermore, if he won, it would mean that he would be able to eat fresh meat, instead of scrounging for the oldest scraps at the back of the cache. The very thought was enough to set his tail wagging!