Ankyra Sound people don't understand the word ruthless

shoulders haunch against the chilling breeze as it ruffles the fur at his nape, coarse to keep him warm during the frigid months of winter, as he waits. he should be hunkered down, slumbering until the sun rose in the sky — though he knows the sun doesn't necessarily mean the day will get warmer. he passes the time between his call and the arrival of the hooded woman by studying what he can see of the internal territory and the scents that clings to the borders. the territory alone doesn't tell him much, admittedly.

the hooded woman doesn't speak but her question was easy enough to read upon her expression and after offering a submissive dip of his head — ah, how long it's been since the ex-cardinal has played the role of a submissive! — and upon it's return to a neutral position he breaks the silence held between them spoken words i come with the intent of seeking information about your pack and to inquire if you have room for me.