Hideaway Strath Trading panic attacks, you finally threw it all back

How do you fare?

She didn't miss a single beat, did she?

A hoarse bark of a laugh bubbled from his chest. How do I fare? Grunting with the itch to appease an ache, Fenrir stretched his lower body out wide before her. In unison, both shoulder cracked with an echoing snap. Travel doesn't suit my aging bones ... albeit, it was refreshing to act as though I were younger like the spawns you harbor.

Rising to his full height, he finally met his daughter's gaze evenly. Not much to report of my travels, really. There's a few packs scattered here and there, some I'm sure you know of. Most seem to keep to themselves, not too concerned with poking their noses in another wolf's fur. All said was likely to her disappointment. But he'd done as she asked, hadn't he? Hell— he'd spent over a month traveling, just for her to find some ounce of trust for him. It almost seemed all for naught.