Sawtooth Spire i'm heading straight for the castle

In the moments that Greyson lingered there at the boundaries of the foreign packland, he took the opportunity to give a quick survey of the area. The mountain was tall and imposing, its peaks blanketed with crisp white snow, and its rocks sharp and jagged. From this alone the male assumed that it would not be home to those faint of heart. The wolves thriving here must have been tough to tolerate such a harsh terrain. 

When the scent of a male drifted to him, Greyback quickly composed himself, his attention breaking away from the scenery as he searched through the heavy curtain of rain for the wolf who approached. Sharp grey eyes soon spotted the impressive, muscular figure of Wintersbane, with his coat of raven black and ashy grey and his eyes of glacier blue. Noticing the dominant height of his tail, Greyson made a point to lower his own and dipped his head in respect towards the assumed leader. 

In response to Winterbane's question, Greyson answered honestly. "I seek shelter," He paused, silently considering if more explanation is needed. "and this is the first pack I have come across on my travels." Perhaps he was being too brutally honest. 

Another wolf appeared then, slipping out confidently from the shadows, her lithe form came to hover beside Wintersbane. Greyson's attention strayed momentarily to cast his curious silver gaze over her dark mask and silver features, catching her bright yellow eyes long enough to offer her a gentlemanly smile and curt dip of his chin. He looked back to Wintersbane, his expression determined.

"I would, of course, offer my own services in return," His gaze flickered back to Wylla. "permanently, if you should wish it." Greyson's dark lips curled into a small smile. He had planned to join another pack eventually, so why not this one.