Duck Lake Metaphorically, I'm a whore, and that's denial number four

A dip of his head was all he offered to her haughty response. Hunting was important, and if he had interrupted her search for food, then he truly was sorry. And he was in no way put off by her attitude. 

A smile tilted one corner of his mouth at her next words. I suppose that is what I'm doing, he answered with a shrug. Blissful wasn't quite the word he would use to describe his life currently, but he wasn't really going to dump all of his problems on a stranger, especially one that he had already pissed off. It had been so quiet here, which made him suddenly wonder: What were you hunting anyway? He glanced around. It's been so quiet here, I didn't even realize there was prey around.

She may not have thought it mattered, but he was glad she answered anyway. He dipped his head again. It's nice to meet you Sarah from Lost Creek Hollow, he offered first. The pack sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite remember why until she mentioned her niece, Ibis. Yes, my mate told me about her visit. I was unable to meet her or speak with her, though. Rosalie had been the one to meet Ibis and her travel companions at the borders of the creek, and she had informed him of it later that day. He still needed to pay the pack a visit and set the foundations for a possible alliance.