Blackfoot Forest just get no blood on the dope

The Mackenzie was all ears as the Akita explained the dynamics of his pack. Appreciative of his reputability of how his pack functioned, it reminded her of when she briefly joined the ranks of the Etruscans before coming to the Wilds. They functioned in the same manner; hospitable to those who displayed loyalty and a sense of service to the members but preserving and fortifying their namesake and lands without a doubt. Zsuzsa was used to this sort of nature already, and it struck a familiarity with her as, she too, acted in the manner of being an iron fist in a velvet glove. She could learn more skills in fighting, defending herself if need be. He wasn't seen as a cold-blooded killer. He was seen as a canine who embraced all the dynamics of his nature.
 
It seemed to pull at her interest genuinely. He seemed robust enough, confident enough, and she wanted to survey the pack lands for herself, just to be sure (as there was so much that can be talked about in this dark cavern) “I can fight alongside, provide a means of protection.” There was confidence in that statement within her voice. She had the history outside of the Wilds, if he so wanted her to elaborate on what she could do, but of course, knew she would have to prove herself later. ”I can hunt and do anything required for the survival of others.” Zsuzsa further eluded. ”I can provide those things in exchange for adequate security and resources of food.” It was then her steel eyes glossed over with uncertainty, remembering her father’s band in pursuit of her to bring her back to them, dead or alive. She wasn’t about to go without a fight.