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

The second the other male starts talking again, Alduin’s eyes light up with toxic familiarity.

The canyon. His old homeland. The land the Saints coveted and occupied when he was a pup. He wanted to rule that land, but those bastards…the ones there now…

A sour expression overcomes his face, one of hatred and shameless anger. One side of his scared lips raises to show dangerous teeth in a scowling snarl.

“The canyon used to be my homeland when my father’s pack was still full with warriors.” He mentions in a sneer. 

Only his eyes zero in on the other man. Determination settling there. “I would like to help you spill their blood.” He purrs venomously. “I would thrive to see their bones become one with the canyon. How many warriors do you have that can fight?” He asks, immediately going into war strategy mode.