Neverwinter Forest Baby eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones

wc:346
Tidying up some of my older threads, so I felt like this was an OK spot to conclude :) Thanks for the thread! Feel free to reply or archive.

Mal didn't immediately give Jackalope the answer he was looking for, and he wasn't quite sure he'd been given an answer at all, as the metallic-eyed male simply saw fit to jusfity his actions by pointing out yet again that the wolves he'd ratted out had said that they'd killed someone. But the more he spoke, the more Jackalope realized that he'd probably made the right choice. Three wolves, wounded, and bragging of having killed or at least attacked another wolf, trespassing into his pack? Why wouldn't he set the vengeance-seeking hounds of Moonspear upon them, especially if it was a Moonspear wolf that those bandits had been harassing.

It served to convince that very little good could become of being neighbours with a pack like Moonspear, if they weren't capable ot minding borders. Then again, he knew that they would have their side of the story as well, and would likely argue their own position if asked. The fact that there was still some tension told Jackalope that no one had really stepped forward to apologize and clear the matter up, but he wasn't the one to attempt to do so. He was an accelerant, more than anything else and as such, he was more likely just to make things worse.

They'd reached the borders, and at that point, Jackalope felt the inclination to stretch out his stride a bit, and keep his trap shut so that he could focus on his job. He also figured the ground would be covered better if they split up- and while he'd had a decent chat with Mal, he still wasn't entirely convinced in his sister's taste in men. Mal was decent enough, but also not quite interesting enough to make Jackalope long for more quality time. “Well, here we are. May as well split up to get the job done. Good talkin' to ya though, Mal; and I guess I'll see you on the other side,” He said, with a nod of his head, before he began to stride off in a counter-clockwise patrol of the packlands.