Moonspear Everyone sees what you appear to be

They would always have a need of hunters, that he could not deny, nor did he see the harm in having a surplus of them. The more of them there were, the better their odds of taking down the larger sets of prey with ease. But it was her remark of being a diplomat that intrigued him the most; Moonspear had always had a throng of warriors and while he did his best to avoid abject, rampant violence, even he had learned over time to better defend himself.

Of course that said, they had their moments of diplomacy too with mixed results. It was ever an ongoing process one direction or another, and like all wolves, they were forced to adapt to survive or die. So far, they had managed the survival part with relative ease even in the wake of loss however temporary or permanent.

“There is always purpose in being sharp-tongued and of sharp tooth,” he commented, “and as it were we often require both here. Being able to hunt well is only a bonus.” A thin wisp of a smile broke his features, akin to a smirk. “Tell me then, how would you handle a constant, overbearing threat to your pack and neighbors? There are a number of those out there who seek to harm others, some even as close as our ranging allows. As it stands the word on the wind is that one may be open to diplomacy and the other cares not for it and seeks to tear the unaware asunder.” The Saints, Ursus; for all he knew they could have both wildly swung between the two points from all he heard.

But of course, their information was largely hearsay, pieced together off the lips of their neighbors and wayfarers alike. Ursus had once been the larger threat in his eyes, but they were distant now, perhaps too far away to fall entirely under his purview of care. But the Saints? Dirge hadn’t quite pinpointed where they were, at least yet, and the murmurings of their doings were by far more common to fall to his ears.