Stone Circle the away mission

Merrit thinks little of the silence. In fact, he is rather glad for the pause. The stagnation gives him time to truly appraise the stranger at his nose, and his gaze shifts. There is height to the man, an air of wildness about him. The boy wonders if this thought is tainted by the fact that this stranger is alone, and carries no distinguishing scent; a rogue, if he's ever seen one, and he wonders -

The stranger interrupts, his voice deeper than expected. Older. Experienced, and Merrit lets his eyes narrow as he acknowledges the stranger's words with a downward tip of his nose. He doesn't need to turn to see what the man has gestured to; the boy knows the proud rocks that stand like a lighthouse over his pack.

"To my family," he corrects, and for a moment his anger subsides, and his eyes relax with the softness of who he knows he is. The stones are the mark of their kinship, and of the unbreakable thread that passes through his blood to generations back. He had heard of the wolves who are buried here, of their nobility, their fidelity, their legacy. Keoni, Murdock, Steady. Though he does not know them, their names are ingrained in his heart - yet one is missing.

The momentary warmth saps to coldness again, and his face chills and hardens. "We are Easthollow," even his voice is lined with frost, and with pointed words, he draws another long step forward, "Who are you?"