Stavanger Bay change the narrative.

He had not heard the call as he roamed, but as he settled to the dirt there did come the dissonant sounds of someone running; he tensed, getting back to his feet as a large wolf came racing to his position. Firefly knew it would not be easy to fight off the loyalists to the skull-faced stranger. Truthfully he had no reason to continue harassing the wolves of this coastal pack - but he had won. He had fought their leader and come out the victor, and he was determined to ride that high for as long as possible. His ears were still ringing from the previous battle; his shoulder was beginning to feel stiff and the blood that flowed from his fresh wounds had not begun to clot. But he could feel the familiarity in the wind - brine, weeds, the wolf scent of rivals. He was right where he wanted to be.

Then he heard the belligerent shout of the stranger through the temporary calm. He faced the oncoming shape and bristled, lifting his head up, assuming the posture of the victor that he was, and snarled a warning. He could keep on fighting if he had to - if they refused the basic laws that governed their kind - but he knew that would blow back on him quickly.

I defeated your boss, he assured the agitated young man, left him somewhere you could easily find. Just follow my scent. A wicked grin flashed across his worn face as he said this, amused at himself and the puddle he had left the wolf in. I am your leader now. Take a knee.