Stavanger Bay Crisp linen sheets, freshly bleached in blood.

There was still much to learn about this place, but Kaertok had gotten the gist of it. At the very least, it wouldn't be dull here. Not that dull was necessarily a bad thing, but it wasn't what he sought right now. Instead, he'd managed to come across a pack that had been ripped apart. Well, not really. From what he could gather, a stranger had come in, defeated (injured? killed?) the leader, and now he was in charge. The brother of the former leader, the one who had (rudely) greeted Kaertok at the border, wished to take the pack back for his brother.

He imagined there was more to it, of course, but that was as much as he needed to know. A few hours had passed since he'd been unceremoniously accepted into their ranks, and now he was exploring his new home. In doing so, he came across one of his new pack mates. He noted the bird resting on her shoulders, and he thought it odd, but he made no comment on it. Wolves did weird things. Apparently birds did even weirder things.

Hello, he greeted once he was in earshot. His approach would have been more than visible—even with the fog—provided she wasn't completely spacing out. I'm new here. My name is Kaertok. Simple, straight, to-the-point.