Sea Lion Shores when i die, you can push me out to sea

the pale, disheveled man gives a stuttering response of agreement and wintersbane watches with cautious glacial eyes as the sea salt coated man's posture shifts into something more neutral. it is enough to assuage the sotaherra, for the time being. it does not, however, warrant the full drop of his guard. there is something unpredictable about this meeting that strikes anticipation into the tundrian's core like a well-aimed lightning bolt. the pale man corrects him, telling him that the fight oft finds him. a firm nod of acknowledgment is given, meant to be an olive branch of understanding.

once upon a time wintersbane had been the instigator of too many fights to count; but now in age came wisdom and he seeks a ...not necessarily higher path but he's no longer burdened with the pressure that he has to prove himself and knows that brawn is not his own strong suit. his tendency to pick fights has cost him plenty ...it's just taken too long to figure out. i'm on my way east to the taiga. i only seek to go home. well ...not a home yet. it was on it's way to becoming one though — once he was able to localize. for now, though, recruitment drives were key and he left the cache building and border marking to those who sought to stay in the hollow and defend it from unwanted squatters.