if i had a heart

He didn't particularly care for his Alpha's lack of initiative against the isle wolves either. Perhaps Pump was a more subtle sort, preferring to sit back and bide her time until the offending band of wolves stepped irreparably out of line. Or perhaps she wished to wait until she knew more about the rival pack. It was never unwise to know one's enemy, after all. He hoped this was the case. He didn't want to actively seek them out and destroy them -- much as he expected Ragnar wished to do -- but he knew that he personally would not tolerate an isle wolf near the Ridge or the grounds the Ridge wolves hunted, and if the consequences of that meeting sparked a war, he would have no regrets. He only hoped his Alpha saw it that way if push ever came to shove. It wasn't his place to question her, though, and he never would…openly, anyway.

Ragnar returned his greeting, a wry grin crossing his grizzled face as he approached Verrine. The waves splashed and frothed around them both; Verrine didn't think he'd ever get tired of the ticklish sensation of the foam fizzling in his wet fur, or the way the water pulled the sand out from under his feet as it moved back out between waves. He knew Ragnar's observation about the quiet pertained to the rival pack, and he nodded his agreement. "I hope it means they heard your warning and intend to listen," he commented, his eyes lingering out over the bird-strewn cliffs of the island. "I wasn't so sure, given the attitude of that moron who met us. But you never know."