Firefly Glen the bittersweet between my teeth

It hadn't slipped Charon's attention that a group of young wolves had settled near his pack — too near. He wasn't sure where they'd come from and he didn't think they were here to stay, at least judging by the lack of borders they had created; thankfully. But it worried him nonetheless and so he went off in search of answers to his many questions. The Glen felt like part of his territory in many ways, and definitely too close for another pack to come to.

When he saw a youth laying down not far off after going into the Glen's territory he approached, tail held high like a banner and composure dominant, maybe even arrogant; he wasn't going to be outwitted by a bunch of children.

Yet there was no aggression in his demeanour, and it was clear that while he was dominant, requesting a form of respect, he was not here to shed blood, or anything more than egos, if it were up to him. "Are you part of the wolves staying here?" he asked, direct and to the point.