Raven's Watch you only understand the language of the sword

The pinch brought only a twitch of his haunch in response, dark eyes waiting for a response from the man. The yin to his yang always, Solpallur's irritation did not ruffle feathers, instead creating a balm that only served to strengthen Stjornuati's resolve; the calm to his dark brother's storm, the stareater regarded the mottled creature across from them with a coolness to his gaze, curious and guarded all the same.

Not a stranger to the movement of a pack, there was less of a concern with why his pack wass settling elsewhere than there was curiosity to it. Why? He would pose, the question pointed but not aggressive. Was it the onset of Winter? Following a herd? Or something else?

Slowly, the common tongue gathered in his head before falling clumsily off his tongue, better than his brother could have weilded the language but clumsy all the same: Who does run with? A pause, a furrowed brow. Who... does you run with? That still didn't sound right but hopefully, his question came across.