Swiftcurrent Creek paper crown

Summoned, the swarthy shadowrunner stalked toward the borders, his gaze intent upon Soltero, despite the peppered wolf he had brought home. The silver wolf had been an active addition to the pack, slowly winning over the trust of the regal, close to the point that he felt the pack was not a pointless cause to carry forward.

As he swept forward, closing the distance between himself and the other two, his gaze finally drifted over the she-wolf, his nose tipping up slightly as he tested her scent in the air, finding no disease or illness detectable. Not that he believed his comrade would bring sickness to their pack.

“Hello,” he rumbled, slowing his pace as he gave a nod of greeting. Constantine went through the motions for the time being—his mate having left, and his son missing. His form remained rigid—stiff in his firm claim to the pack as he moved to channel his emotions to one thing—raise a glorious pack that could become family. “I'm Constantine. And you are?”