Silvertip Mountain Traveling alone

Roz's remark caused the prickly pirate to scoff openly. His jaw dropped a bit and he lifted a single front paw so that it rested near his chest in a pose of mock surprise. “Well, Roz, I'll have ye know that once ye shack up with good ol' Smokestep, ye won't want to be shackin' up anywhere else,” he boasted with a swift wink and a chuckle. He then moved to close some of the space between them in a few limber steps. His long legs seemed to move with some grace that had not been there before. The fur along his chest brushed against her own and he pulled his muzzle toward the hair of her ears.

“An' I'm always worth the trouble, lass.” His voice was husky and deep as it drifted toward her. The corsair then pulled his frame back and watched her with a calculating eye. He had not happened across another wolf yet that he wanted as part of the Ironsea crew – not as badly as he wanted Rosalyn there. She was made of pirate blood and she would do well within their ranks; she need only accept.