Felltree Marsh Singer stylist

Kaertok was used to others reacting to his abrasive way of speaking. And, quite frankly, he didn't care. Let others see him as they wished, so long as he got what he wanted from them. Unfortunately, this particular wolf did not do him any good. At least she offered to follow up if she did run across him.

Rusalka. We live on the cliffs, Kaertok said, gesturing back toward Rusalka's new home.

My name is Kaertok Tartok.

He realized, just then, that this could very well be one of the Sagtannet wolves. If that was the case, he supposed that she might turn on him. Then again, maybe meeting her wouldn't be such a bad idea if she was one of them. Maybe Kaertok could learn a thing or two about the pack that sought to push them from their new home.

Are you with Sagtannet? he asked. No need to play guessing games when he could root the information out by simply asking for it. It had been too long since he had come into contact with stranger at their borders, so he did not recall the exact scent that the man had held. Still, they weren't that far away from their respective homes, so it wasn't a totally out of the blue question.