Heron Lake Plateau there's an endless road to rediscover

Well shoot the dog, of course he knew his stripe wasn't free admission. It was really nothing more than a mark along his back, defining his heritage, but not deciding his worth. That was something he forged for himself, and Tuathal found himself nodding in silent understanding - though he realized, a bit late, that his nerves had carried the nod a beat through the time he should have been talking.

Oh - uh - "Of course," he corrected, and dipped a more sombre nod. Something was off about the dark stranger; her voice alerted him to this, along with the way her eyes seemed to focus on his mouth instead of the space nearer his eyes. Her brain seemed well functioning, though, and he wondered if she simply had an impediment with her speech. His own voice shifted in the slightest anyway to something clearer and more pronounced, an instinctive response to what he found amiss in the other. "My everything." He answered, and couldn't it really be summed up as that? "I don't make promises I don't intend to keep, and I assure you, I'll give you my all. I think it's without saying I can hunt, and I know how to survive. I'm a warrior - it's what I've trained to be, and I'll continue to hunt for, care for, provide for, and protect your pack, to the best that I can, if you'll have me." He swallowed and found himself glancing at Ceara, perhaps for affirmation. Wondering whether he'd said enough. If he was even enough - but he knew at the end of the day, he'd only spoken that which he held to be true.