Bearclaw Valley You beetlebum just get numb

He's currently got no notable injuries, perhaps some nicks here and there

One came.
Fast and alert. Skinny -- not a good sign. A scrawny mutt which earned a dismissive gaze, for he was the only one he'd seen so far.
Should they all be in that condition, he'd take his services elsewhere. He certainly will not pledge himself to some pack that can't even feed themselves.

Rain softly started up again, a sprinkling of water that spat around them.

Another came. Female, new mother.
Dominant and also dark in her appearance. Where the other male was tall, she was poofier and he suspected broader than the man he'd come to know as Skoll Almir. She bore down on him in slow motion, though with no anger. Interest.
She offered no words, so neither did he. 
She wanted to investigate for herself, and he let her. His tail gave a few soft waves to show he was fine with his inspection, and tentatively sought for the scents that would be clinging to her fur.

Blood, death, youth. A scent born from a pack of savagery -- perhaps something he could get behind. Perhaps they'd not object to his wavering desires.