Moonspear the world is a place where the villains wear a smile on their face

He smiled at the boy. "The brine is quite encompassing, isn't it?" he said. And those who lived by the sea carried the scent of the ocean so strongly, that one might believe the waters to be their mother. That one might believe they were forged from the ocean itself, and not of wolfkind at all. They carried the waters wherever they roamed; they were easy to track on land far removed from the salty depths, but not so easy to kill. As much as their mother was tempetuous, unpredictable, and cruel, so also her offspring proved to be.

Dragomir, as he introduced himself, only carried the scent of Moonspear, of mountains, and stone. The only salt on the air was that carried from the ocean, miles from the height at which they perched. His name was not so easy a question to answer, and Merrit paused. Considered giving Dragomir the reigns to choose what he would call him. Instead, the raven-furred man slipped the title the Queen had bestowed. "Theseus," and with a turn of his head he appraised Dragomir again. He looked young, but already he cut a strong and formidable figure. "Who is your father? Are you one of Hydra's children?"