Blackfeather Woods Utjitunnik

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A fanatic for sure, but it was through the demonstrations of a true leader that he’d come to be that way. Meldresi had always managed to keep things together, during a war and the rearing of her children, and even after Burke had entered the picture. In Kove’s eyes, she could do no wrong, nor would she ever be anything less than the great and mysterious queen whose presence he often missed. Yet, he knew that she was still there among them, living on through the lives of her children, whose blood was the same as hers. Damien, her firstborn, was to be the next great leader, having behind him the full support of the elder man.

The Inuk nodded thereafter, listening well and understanding the need. “Perhaps Cicero can select two other scouts, and the three can head out in order to find some new wolves,” he suggested, knowing of the other boy’s apparent interest in scouting. “He’s traveled often enough, I’m sure he’ll pick good candidates.” Both when it came to selecting the other scouts, and when deciding which wolves were best suited to be brought back to Blackfeather.

Still, Damien spoke, but not of something that the elder man was prepared for. He allowed for his surprise to pass through his features, feeling no need to hide behind an expressionless mask when with his friend. “I’d be honoured,” he said first, but quickly followed with, “but I don’t know. I’m getting older, Damien…” There was nothing more for him to say as his voice trailed off, leaving the other to piece the rest of it together for himself. Although he felt as if he wouldn’t be dying anytime soon, he understood that he was not as youthful as he once was. And, with his age, there came greater risks of injury; they were risks that he didn’t want to hang over Damien or any of the others, for it was his own to handle.

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