Silver Creek let's kill someone

bold. perhaps not, but every winter was different, especially when you lacked common sense and any form of intellect. but, hey, whatever, not everyone could be as all-knowing and wonderful as grayson aaron odolf. winter was easy to him because he had all the necessary tools to face it. to thrive in it. this man had nothing but the coat on his back.

pitiful. grayson might've scoffed at his comment had his father not taught him more decency than that -- and also that being rude upfront did not get you as far as being snide only under your breath did. grayson would do that. 

"you're not," he responded with a quirk of his brow, "i plan on settling my wolves somewhere around here in the future. but i claim nothing today." not today. not tomorrow. but one day. the timeline remained uncertain, and so grayson gave this stranger none. instead, he offered something far more important and interesting.

"my name is grayson odolf."