Moonspear tŷ, nid cartref

Luckily, his answers seem to have placated the pale leader somewhat, though he is, understandably, still wary. At his questions, Llewellyn's mouth draws into a frown. "There was a. . ." He struggles for the right word in the common tongue for a moment, before giving up. "In my language, we call it gwrthryfel. My cousin stood up against my father and killed him. Killed my mother and sister, too, and those most loyal to us. Everyone else turned against my family."

He shakes his head. "They would kill me, too, if they found me. I had no way of knowing whether you were loyal to my father or the traitor. Better still that you are completely unfamiliar with Mynydd." Llewellyn blinks in slight apology at Charon. "Perhaps one day, I will go back," he says softly. "Return, to reclaim my father's throne. But I am empty, these days, with no land to protect and no souls to guard.

"To protect and guard your mountain, your family. . .that is all I need, for now," the golden wolf rumbles. "I cannot ask for more; I can only hope that you take me at my word, which I assure you is honorable." With this, he dips his muzzle again, in a sort of half-bow. He will kneel for no man save his father, though now dead and rotting. But Charon deserves his utmost respect, and gratitude, as well--if he is accepted into the fold at Moonspear.