Northstar Vale doors slamming all around

Redshank barging in like

The life of a loner had not been kind to Redshank. As much as he was loathe to admit, he was not cut out for being an independent man. His ribs grew more visible by the week, his figure had grown upwards but not out, and nicks and scratches peppered his muzzle and paws. If it weren't for his sheer size — or rather, lack of it — one would be forgiven for thinking him to be much older than he actually was. However the boy maintained his defiant and headstrong demeanour, evident by the glimmer in his eyes and how his path shifted when he overheard a nearby conversation.

While he hadn't been aiming to head in the Vale's direction, somehow he had ended up near their borders, even though he had developed a seething hatred of the Vale's former leader. Just as Redshank had begun to like and trust the man, he had just up and left. Just like his own father before him. The thought made him snarl in anger but he redirected his focus on locating the two voices.

Or... we could take this place. Redshank's ears pricked with interest, and he hurried his steps as he quietly made his way to where the two wolves sat. He studied their forms from afar — they were both strong and capable looking. He turned to the grey-furred woman as she spoke, an impish grin curling across his gaunt features. He stalked forward silently before piping up once he was close enough, "if y'guys need some help..."