King Elk Forest He is not one of us.

An eyebrow raised as Célnes began to speak. Though he sang religious songs and enjoyed their compositions, he wasn't devout. He believed, but that was the extent of it. All the to say, he didn't really care about the fur color of wolves. Ravinger found the whole ordeal kind of silly. If the High Elk was as benevolent as he sang about, what did he care about the pelts of his followers? The bard shifted, glancing between the various wolves gathered. He could already hear their complaints and cries of outrage. 

"Let him join and prove himself, as any wolf should. I have met many a wicked wolf, and their pelts ranged from brown to timber to white. Let him prove his worth, King Célnes. I would invite him to share my den if no one else would sponsor him," Ravinger offered, winking toward Elijah as he spoke up on the stranger's behalf. He wasn't sure if anyone else would.