Whitebark Stream Fate's Calling (Leila, Slade, Cry)

Cry remained silent at the response, his dark cape of ruff threatening to rise simply from the irk the cocky grin the russet gave. Did he think this safety thing was a damn game? It was already bad enough that that fool whelp Horosk dared to let his damn maniac sister near the borders and do nothing about it, but for Cry, safety meant everything. Every day he picked up the slack the failure of a Medio did not, circuits unrelenting in their reinforcement. He was thick in the scheme of family, but when no one cared of their own, who was he to care with or even for them?

It was then he made up his mind.
He had to find a way out of this place, before he died in vain trying to protect wolves he couldn't find himself giving a damn about. They were what was considered family, yes, but with the recent event of Horosk and the pack being a ghost land in it's own right, Cry had no reason to stay faithful to preserving their safety.

Leila had also already helped with birthing the pups, so she no longer had a reason to stay, either. As far as he was concerned, he had done his job, and so had she.

If she was stuck on stupid with this guy, however, something could be arranged. She was a modest thing, and pretty shinies like her often were attractive to vile things. He knew one that was definitely fond of her.
His uncle, mentor, and own past, Slade Xandir.

"These lands will rend you dead when they want you dead. Sithis is too keen to 'accidently' overlook your fate."

Silent an agonizing second more, he spoke again, this time bringing himself into the light of the moon, detatching from the shadows.

"I know someone who can keep you, her and myself safe, with payment of nothing but undying loyalty. He may not be...morally sane, but he is keen, and will keep us in high standings with Life. Need not fear trouble unless he wants it to take place, and more often than not, he's the one who solves it."