Ankyra Sound "If."

Eurycrates had a point, but he had to stand firm on his own conviction. He'd only heard stories of what happened to those who crossed Drageda, but knew they had never lost an engagement with a foe. Perhaps they didn't claim the sound proper but they also didn't allow anyone to settle there without question. That was something he'd learned in his time with them; they liked their space, and given the size of the pack, Ephraim understood that. Heda never spoke much of the wolves that previously lived here, but he knew had they not left of their own accord, Drageda would have gone for them.

The rest of Eurycrates' counter argument went a little over his head. He almost rejoined with clarification that Drageda wasn't scattered, but stopped himself with his lips pursed. He shouldn't say too much about the state of his pack to a total stranger. "Heda has eyes and ears everywhere," was the response he chose to give, then rolled his shoulders in a shrug. He held himself neutrally; no reason to give Eurycrates the impression that he was threatening him rather than simply warning him. "She didn't like the last pack that lived here being so close so she brought down her warriors and annihilated them. That's why no one lives here now." Eurycrates didn't need to know that that pack had actually left on their own and Drageda had little to do with it—the more impressive he made his pack sound, the less likely they would need to actually deal with this guy.

"You wanna hang around here, you'll need to join 'em or bargain with Heda," he finished, "otherwise... Stay and find out I guess." It's your funeral.