Whitefish River Old Friends, New Tragedies

The deformed paladin relaxed a little further at Connor's swift answer. Connor was swift to also find a new pack to join, either Aristos had failed or Rhaella ran off with Daegon somewhere, leaving the bunch of them on their own. Is she here with you? he had to know, had had to know if she still lingered, somewhere close too. Uncertain of how he felt about it all, he was certain of one thing at least... he wanted nothing to do with the harlot. I'm trespassing, aren't I? Slowly he was able to piece together what Connor was saying.

The lands were being re-claimed by his wolves, so he was lucky he had been found out by a previous packmate than the others who might have been more hostile. For once Rosencrantz would count his blessings for coming across the one face who would recognize him in a friendly manner in this land. 

The face? A lot had happened since Connor and he had spoken, but he took a wild guess and supposed the cinnamon giant was talking about the lack there of of what was left of his once was packmate. He could still feel how fresh and gooey that side was, so he was certain that Connor could piece together that it was fairly recent. There's a cannibal running around, took my ear and lips.