Greatwater Lake proper motivation

Kierkegaard was a solitary creature; he spent a majority of his time in isolated situations. The ashen brute had never known pack life, therefore he did not understand it. He was not unintelligent – in a sense – but his knowledge was based on survival alone. With only his sister as a companion, they had marched through harsh winters and even starvation. They had grown up on a desolate lifestyle, but it was all that they knew. Yes, he was feral… wild, perhaps to a fault, but he was not deficient. Strange, perchance, even savage at times, but not senseless. The dark female introduced herself as Blue Willow… a peculiar name, but he was not one to judge on another’s calling. Drawing his gaze along her frame for a moment, pondering the meaning of such a label, he almost did not pick up her question. Furrowing his brows and frowning softly, the ashen male blinked once or twice at her before responding. “I am Kierkegaard,” he introduced first. “I was drinking,” he then added after an awkward pause. Tossing his muzzle in the direction of where he had stood – chest deep – in the lake, he wondered why she was questioning his motive. Then, thinking back to her statement, Kierke tilted his head to the side and darted his gaze back to her. “Did you say something about the plateau?” There was a strong chance that he had mistaken these lands for free terrain when they very well could have been claimed as pack territory. It would not have been the first time he had trespassed.