Swiftcurrent Creek i'll be the outlaw, bounty on my head; you be my shelter, a safe place to rest

No worries!

The black wolf eased his submission once Constantine had acknowledged his show of respect. His head and ears relaxed and he let his tail hang comfortably. His expression was unrevealing in its neutrality as the swarthy leader said his piece. He did twitch an ear, however, at the question that was asked and briefly lifted his brows.

Jagwyr ran his tongue thoughtfully across the front of his teeth, producing a soft smacking noise as he stopped, shifting his jaw slightly. "Nope." He answered with a nonchalant roll of his shoulders. "I'm fit — eyes are sharp. Nose is keen. Old enough to know, young enough to do. I hunt. I defend." He paused, watching the male's face for an unfavorable change in expression. But even if there was one, his answer was the same. Summed up:

"I ain't fancy. Ain't special. But I earn my keep."