Swiftcurrent Creek can u spare some beans

Their days had been busy – what had once been a small band of four wolves had multiplied, so much to the extent that Constantine was unfamiliar with most of the wolves within their ranks now. It left him frazzled, almost, though he had only confided this to his mate.
 
When the call sounded from the border, the stocky shadowrunner shifted his direction, having previously been marking more of their borders – wanting to ensure their claim was not mistaken. He stalked forward, a dark girl coming to view, and, he noted, with a darkening frown, Wylla.
 
Durnehviir had extended the wispy she-wolf an olive branch, despite the sea wolf’s raid on their previous home just as they had decided to leave it behind. His jaw clenched lightly, but the Mayfair shook his thick pelt to ease his tension, his form drawing up beside that of his pack mate’s, where he remained politely amicable enough – his shoulder brushing against hers with tentative reassurance and an attempt to bridge his own mistrust of her. It was something Deirdre would have done.
 
His eyes skimmed over the she-wolf, his ears cupping forward at her request. He remained silent for a stolen moment, considering the brisk words spoken – she was young, almost too young for dispersal, so he wondered why she was on her own. “I’m Constantine,” he greeted, his tail arcing upward in a proud flag. “Alpha of this pack.” He paused then, his muzzle tipping further upward as he scrutinized their potential joiner. “We just arrived here, so I presume we're simply the first pack you've come across in your travels.” It was a statement; one he did not follow with a question, though his gaze bore in to her, waiting to see how she would respond.