Ankyra Sound sheepskin

The girl dismissed his inquiry almost as soon as it had left him, so he released his curiosity and nodded his head with a solemn expression. Kierkegaard was not fond of words, so he preferred that she did not wish to discuss it. There was a portion of him troubled with the thought of another wolf having assaulted Grimnismal so closely, but he did not wish to test his luck with the sniping female. He had heard her tongue on the borders. While he had wits about him, he knew that he was no match in a verbal argument with their leader.

Wylla turned in a moment and fixed him with an expression that caused his coat to rise. She began with warning him that he would not get away with ‘it,’ and he was cast into confusion. Then, she told him that he had violated their pack law and she would make sure that he would pay for his actions. Kierkegaard could not hide the surprise that etched into the harsh lines of his face. The mercenary parted his mouth to speak but could not find the right words to fill the moment. He darted his gaze to her and then to the ground, his mind pounding in the effort to answer, but there was a bubbling of emotions within him. The old brute felt a bristle at the thought of his pups taking any of the punishment, or of his mate; he knew that if he should shoulder it all, they would be looked after.

“I will face the consequences, Wylla,” he stated in a steady voice. A frown creased his lips and the ghost looked at her, searching for what was going on behind the dark mask on her face. “But no harm will fall to the pups, or Caiaphas,” he warned. “If I am not enough, we will all leave.” The young girl may have been his leader, but he was firm in what he said. Kierkegaard would have wasted every last shred of his own strength in order to protect them.