Stavanger Bay The seas may be rough, but I am the Captain!

She relented and he felt confident that he'd convinced her of his power - although if that was necessary he'd never really know. Firefly felt it was. He couldn't help but feel like the whole pack would be trying to oust him from his place atop the pyramid and he'd sooner fight them to the death than be kicked aside as some unimportant detritus that had somehow wound up on their beach.

He'd fought their leader, and he was still standing. So he was their leader now and they would just have to deal with it. Perhaps living within Rusalka had changed Firefly's views on what was normal for a pack's heirarchy; perhaps his Drageda-inspired stress had molded him in to this other beast, lacking trust and trusting the darker natures of strangers.

Proceed. He commanded, feeling a little bit more like an asshole as he did so. To make it easier he reclined to his haunches in the dirt so that she could work on his shoulder, and maybe the wounds on his head, if so inclined. There were others now - fresher wounds - from the pair of wolves he'd encountered in the territory's heart. He waited a moment, and whenever Dalia began to work upon him, he commented quietly - My name is Firefly.