Stavanger Bay Running Towards a Place

The biting ocean winds ruffled his fur. Plainly, he sat, awaiting the leader's response, which—when it came—was nonspecific, most likely delivered intentionally so. The man wasn't obliged to offer him anything more, anyway. McBride had a respect for the types which indulged in privacy, similar to himself. He hadn't intended to pry, however the concept of a forming pack was all too appealing. If the stranger hadn't mentioned future recruitment, he would've been on his way by now. Unlike joining the ranks of an established group, there was something to build here—to become apart of the foundation rather than a disposable accessory on the outskirts. Tahoe didn't want to miss investigating such an intriguing, potential opportunity.

Much work for only a few. He spoke gruffly. Recruitin', are you?