Cricket Creek Bog If you could fly then you’d feel south

At her description of his Saint wolf he chuckles, knowing exactly who it is. He’d never forget the steely, yet affectionate gaze of Zsusza. Her tall form and her nimble, athletes body. He only nods to Wren when she mentions her and listens for her to continue.

Then at the mention of the Kinglend wolves being stuffy he barks out a fit of laughter, clearly entertained by her. “They are a bit stuffy, no?” He laughs. “Not horrible company though it seems so far.” He hums then, before cocking his head to her. “Oh, I’ll be looking forward to it.” He says confidently.

As for hunting, he too has a knack for it. Loves it truly — dies for it. Perhaps it’s just his insatiable bloodlust, or maybe he’s deranged. Both, yeah both sounds about right. “So you’re going to go show these Kingslend wolves who the boss is huh?” He teases. “Well, I look forward to it, darling.” 

He begins trotting off closer to his own territory. “I best be off now. Leaderly duties, you know.” He chuckles back to her before his voice becomes a bit lower, his eyes looks around as if someone could be watching them. “I’d be careful around these parts, legend has it theres murderers running amuck.” He says it as if he’s actually warning her. As if he’s not the very murderers he’s talking about. What can he say? He’s a sucker for scaring innocents. “Packs are safe, I’d run for Kinglend if I were you.” He says seriously before he smiles once more. “Ta ta, be careful out there, darling.” He sings as he turns around and begins to trot off like he’d never just told her there were murderers running around.