Stavanger Bay the lighthouse

The female managed to fumble through his name well enough. The rogue offered her an affirmative bob of his head to let her know that it would suffice. He knew that there would not be much they could say to each other without a shared language, and the words she had spoken to him before were nothing like any word he had heard from either of his parents or the other members of his natal pack. The girl then offers what he assumes is her own moniker.
 
“Natshana?” he tested, hoping that she would find it good enough. The sound was definitely something foreign to him, but then the girl went on to inquire if he belonged to a pack.
 
Knaven tilted his head slightly, brow creasing with thought. “No pack. Lone wolf,” he tells her in a confident tone, unashamed of the lack of a tying to any claimed land. The young druid was certain that if he found himself in need of a home, he could manage to pull together a group of others who would take to the bay… just as his father had. “Natshana pack?”