Don't you talk to strangers.

The more the ex-Creek wolves spoke, the more indifferent Scimitar felt toward them. Believing themselves to be wronged completely, and yet neither seemed willing to take responsibility for their actions -- it would be interesting to see how they themselves would treat such brutal fights withyin their own ranks if the time ever came.

His own paws stopped their movement as he caught Njal's gaze, one ear sliding back at the mention they were leaving. Disgruntled with this news, his gaze flashed to then others -- hardly a force to be reckoned with, and dipped his muzzle lightly in acceptance to his commander's orders. The honeyed she-wolf who had accompanied them hissed a mocking sentence, though Scimitar himself remained ever vigilant in his silence.

Stepping back toward the group, his own black tipped tail gave a lash of irritation through the air -- the only emotion that offered his annoyance to the situation. Waiting for Njal to lead the way, he would pull up from the back to ensure an attack could only be landed on him, rather than the silver new found father.