follow the leader

The silver wolf was swift and to the point. Her eyes assessed the woman briefly, and then fell to the male. It would seem he was looking to her as well, though he was silent. Tonravik could not know if he desired to join as well, but he appeared fit enough. The dark leader looks to Soul again, and then speaks, What can you offer this pack? She is elusive, though it was quite clear that the pack was hers; and yet, she does not define it as such. This pack was more than just her, after all, and it was not only her that the pale wolf would lend her skills to.

Tartok was a unit, and one that worked together. They functioned as a whole, a militaristic unit that fed off of one another. She its commander, her wolves the troops. Hunters, healers (which they needed more of), scouts... all trained to be fighters, warriors, killers. Tonravik wondered if Soul was the sort of woman who could bend to the feral lifestyle they shared. Simple savages, they were. But they were the wolves that survived.

Her eyes then fall to Altair, and she looks at him pointedly. And your purpose?