Cassiopeia's View Morse code for trumpet quintets

It wasn't like Dragomir to go on the defensive, but when he lifted his eyes and saw the rusty grey she-wolf approaching, he remembered that he wasn't in Moonspear's territory. This was their realm, but he wasn't completely safe here. There was no telling when Blackhead or Sanguinus might rear their ugly heads, and there was no guarantee that they were the only villains who stalked the wilds. There was something downright unsettling about Hela that put his back up. The flat, disconnected quality of her burnished eyes, perhaps.

He straightened up and swept his tongue across his lips, but to her query, he offered only a question of his own. Who's asking? He could no more douse the pack scent from his coat than he could fashion a believable lie, having always been an honest sort, but he delivered the query with a clipped sort of distrust all the same. He knew Moonspear and Nightwalkers were allied, but he didn't know who the Nightwalkers were or where they resided.

Or that their new young Warlord stood right in front of him.