Wolf of the mist

So she was not a heartless and malicious wolf with blood lust and murder on her mind. It was good to know that Altair was not going to get her fangs dug into his spine when he turned his back on her. Her story did not surprise him, life was cruel and hard with a problem around every corner. He had come to realise that each pack had different methods for dealing with the weaker members of their abode. Altair would reply to her very matter-of-factly. "I see. Where I am from they would have never done such a thing." It seemed at first as though Altair was trying to comfort her. Well he was but he had an odd way of doing it.

"In my home you would have been sold to another pack, but it is more likely you would have been given the role of a servant or maid. Tending to the cubs, treating wounds, cleaning dens or entertaining the royals..." He could remember a few from former pack, Samarkand, that have been servants to his family - to his father. Fiona in particular he could recall quite well since she used to grow a garden of herbs beside the river. With a short sigh his focus returned to Soul with the formation of the smallest smile flicking over the edges of his maw. "If you like you can serve me? I do not have a maid and could use the company. I would not chase you away." Or murder any of your friends. Due to Altair's upbringing he did not realise how odd this request was - not even remotely.