The Sentinels if you are the dealer, i'm out of the game

"Aye; me name's Smokestep Cairn."

So, this wolf knew Skellige. The corsair regarded him with a curious gaze as he explained his relation to the inky brute who had once claimed the bay for his own. The coywolf had said that they were friends and while the young Smokestep could not have imagined his father with any sort of relation, he took the other male's word for face value and nodded his head. Recalling the stories that had been shared by the Leviathan, the pale young Cairn could only imagine that this wolf was the Witchdoctor Arturo or one of the wolves from the burned wood. The way that the coywolf spoke about the sentinels, Smokestep was beginning to imagine that it was the latter. It only made sense that he would have wed someone within his own pack, and since there had once been a pack in the wood... well, Smokestep could see this male pairing nicely with Deirdre and her flock.

“Ye belonged to Donnelaith then?” the pirate inquired, canting his head. The forest pack's name felt foreign against his tongue, but he had heard the young pale wood nymph speak it more than a dozen times. Skellige had mentioned that it had been his strongest alliance when he had held his claim on the depths. But, then, his father had also been quite fond of the wolf who had run the other forest pack – the Witchdoctor. Smokestep wondered if the wolf Arturo was still present in the area, or if he had vanished as well.