Whitefish River but even if we won't admit it to ourselves

The agouti man stops moving when Alduin gets closer. Which isn’t an odd reaction with a stranger like him — especially with his own daunting appearance. Even though their interaction has been civil so far, no one should trust a stranger. At least that’s what Alduin thinks. But the cursed boy shows nothing but comfortable confidence — if only because he knows of his own prowess in battle. He’s already sized the man up and never has his guard down despite looking moderately lax about their interaction, so he’s always ready for a fight. 

Still, from this distance, Alduin can see him better. Not that he couldn’t before, he can just see the finer details now. He can see the muscle concealed beneath a thick coat and those eyes. Oh, they’re quite pretty. A two toned gaze of light blue and soft green, much different from the man’s rugged appearance. Alduin finds himself staring, making easy, confident eye contact as the other male speaks once more. 

Wandering somewhere in particular? He asks. 

Once more Alduin shakes his head. “No. I wander to ease my mind.” He supplies simply.

The man continues though, answering Alduin’s next question.

Not a pack. An army. 

At those words Alduin can’t help but huff out a breath through his nose. It’s a noise that one could consider a laugh, but with much less effort put into it. His bloody eyes hold a touch of amused interest and his brows, that were casually furrowed before, rise a touch.

“Oh?” His deep voice drawls, but he listens to him continue.

The stranger’s next words have Alduin reluctantly interested — genuinely interested. What type of group is forming? A bloodthirsty one? A possible ally for Blackwater? Perhaps; perhaps not. He searches for those who are strong willed and ready to fight. Ready to put a bitch in her place too. At that Alduin can’t help the hardly there, upwards tug of his lips that shows. It’s quick though, he doesn’t let it linger. And to make it even more interesting there is not a only a bride his commander wishes to claim, but a land — a place. How interesting.

It would probably be obvious that Alduin is interested in what he has to say. The dark wolf hums low in his throat, a deep drawn out sound. So he offers his two cents,

“What land? And who does your commander wish to reclaim. I might be able to help you.” He asks in an attempt to get information. But one cannot gain information without giving some of his own. “I live on the northern coast of the beach. Perhaps I will know.”