Ravenshook Cliffs I found myself staring at you

if any interested looks or easily misconstrued looks were sent wintersbane’s way by the ivory man; wintersbane doesn’t notice. interest hardly concerns him in lieu of losing the two women he held most precious. the apparent lack of space, however, the tundrian does notice and his lips curl back in a show of warning: no closer. they are strangers and wintersbane is more like to attack first and ask questions later when someone uninvited invades his personal space. primal instinct before diplomacy; he’s been too near death too many times to tolerate it.

because the gods are dead, wintersbane deadpans; unflinchingly. unapologetically. or perhaps they never existed at all. in the end, it was the same result, wasn’t it? regardless of whether the stranger agreed or not, didn’t really matter. wintersbane has no desire to be converted or listen to some religious monologue about how wrong he was.

a brief glimpse is given to the raven that circles overhead; ears fluttering back as it lets out a loud caw; before his attention zeroes back in on the ivory stranger. i’m wintersbane, he offers his name. saltking of ironclan. we claim the bay just west of here. he gestures his muzzle in it’s general direction, wondering, religion aside ( and really wintersbane didn’t care if his wolves were religious he just didn’t want to be bothered by attempts at conversion ), if there was a potential recruit to be found in the stranger.

word count: 240