Hideaway Strath I was nineteen in a white dress

Artok had never been a settler, the closest he had ever come was years and years ago, when he was merely a pup and he settled into life with Wintersun, but then that came to a bruising and harsh halt. He was taught another lesson, that nothing was permanent, and things and wolves changed on whim. 

         He listened again, her words falling on keen ears. He liked listening to her story of her people, despite that her people were as he first thought, and not as kind as he had assumed. So slavery, death and torture, just like all the others. He dipped his muzzle thinking, the thoughts going round and round. Clicking into place, pulling forth memories he had forgotten of other clans, similar clans, and some worse, yes some worse. As for the pups, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Having never had any, or at least none that he knew about at any rate. He wasn't sure how he would take someone else owning his children. But if they were raised that way, would they really know anything different.

       A cold, humorless smile took place on Artok's face and he looked at the woman boldly only for a moment as he spoke, his voice heavy with a truth of his own. I know all about life being fucking unfair. Of that you can be certain.

       He turned his gaze away again so as to not overly challenge her. He hadn't meant anything by his words either. It was just his truth. It was clear life was unfair in the scars he wore across his face, in the permanent limp, in the other scars that had taken residence where his unfairness had won out, and the tightened muscles slowed him down. Perhaps this girls brother was right, perhaps he wasn't worth much of anything, and could be no help, but he would die before he'd admit it.