Sun Mote Copse mention our ghosts, our knotted spines

The druid’s lips part to speak, to answer Delight’s question but Seabreeze beats the moonlit empyrean to it. “This territory does not call to me,” Mato chirps up, a bit redundant, but speaks with confidence to assure Seabreeze that she is correct in her assumption. “our search is not yet over.” They were probably running out of territory in the west and he thinks that if he finds nothing that calls to him in the Hinterlands that their only option is to head as far east as they can. He does not want a territory too close to another pack’s claimed lands and Mato thinks that this could present a little bit of a hiccup if he goes east. No, he thinks, it has to be west, where there is only one pack scent lingering upon the winds. “Tindómë is not going to be a traditional pack,” Mato speaks, picking up on the subtle undertones of potential interest. “It is correlated with the different trades. Masters will sit beneath leadership, wolves that have specialties beneath the Masters, those that have the basic trade, apprentices and then those without trades. Dominance beneath the leadership tier is depended upon skill.” Not age, not personality. If a wolf had the skill to reflect it then they had every right to show dominance over those in lower tiers than theirs. Mato's salmon pink tongue draws across his lips as he regards Delight with friendly curiosity wondering if it is that Seabreeze and him may have came across a recruit.