Lost Creek Hollow huacalera

Sandy arrived to listen, his goose feather he wound in his fur, near his feet. It would stay there for a time, like some macabre decoration, until he moved it to a safe spot for his new packs meetings. But for now, it would be fine.

Gunnar and Bjarna, Taktuq and Sanja. He would remember those names, they spoke a different language. This could be both bad and good. Good because they would have a chance to learn something new, bad because there would be a barrier. A hard one, there could be misunderstandings, though if some of them could speak their language, perhaps not so bad.

Sandy hard the words that the three legged shadow spoke and though it was not something he was used to. It certain had merit this idea of his.

It has merit, and I would rather have peace than war.