Frostfire Ridge blood

wintersbane regards her question contemplatively. her guesses weren't entirely wrong, per say. a bit of both you could say, he muses, despite that sentinel and warrior didn't entirely describe all of his duties as sotaherra. and then some. he adds and indicates to the hollow below where they stood with a gesture of his muzzle. that land there is called permafrost hollow. it's the home of the wolves of the vartija. my wolves. he doesn't say 'my' with possessiveness but rather a simple if not vague acknowledgement that he's their leader. though i prefer to patrol on the borders it might not be a bad idea to send someone up here periodically to get a bird's eye view. he's really just musing to himself now, but then, as if remembering he was in the presence of another he swings his head towards her.

if you've been travelling in this area you haven't seen a silver male, have you? he attacked one of my wolves, a young girl. he fled shortly before i got to the scene and she was too injured to abandon to chase after him. he almost killed her. i don't know if he'll come around but i've been keeping my eyes and ears open just in case. wintersbane knows the description is sorely lacking in any sort of viable details but it's the best he's got and for now, until more information can be gathered, it's what he has to work with. a few more words are exchanged but, as wintersbane suspected, the woman had not seen any silver furred males and the two part ways.