Manifesto

An ever-patient creature; Skull does not shift as he waits for her answer, or grow irate from her musings and, indeed, she is short-spoken. Both ears perk up further at the mention of this Northerner; her mate. A faint ghost of a smile winds across his lips, and he nods. But before he can make further comment on the matter she, once again, gives him pause and he regards her with an openly curious look this time. His concern? Is he not a pack wolf and wishes well to any whelps born upon the earth?

He stands firm as she approaches to steal the scent of him from the air, but one eye twitches and narrows thoughtfully (though not unkindly). A spark illuminates her brilliant eyes, and he is momentarily taken aback from her comment. Tartok. Skull steps forward and brushes his nose against her muzzle with a low croon of acknowledgement. "Yes. And you are Tuwawi, then. I remember." He says.

"The Issumatar sends her regards, and no doubt she will be happy to hear you and your family are thriving." He wasn't usually this wordy, but with Tartok, he felt as if he could be.