Moonspear all my friends are heathens

Argent paused—form stiff, not from discomfort, but allowing Njord to scent him—familiarize himself. When the man was done, the silver man’s own tail gave a gentle flick in the air, content in the manner he had been accepted thus far—a healthy man in his prime, eager to prove himself to the world in some fashion.

He just had to figure out how.

Good-natured, the Moonspear guardian beckoned him further in the territory, and the mooncaller hesitated only a moment before falling into an easy lope alongside the other wolf.

There, Njord would pridefully boast of his family and the Sandraudiga found himself captured with a pang of fondness at the ideal presented before him—a happy family, who was expanding even more in the upcoming season. It was the kind of life his own mother had wished to paint for her children, but with the sudden death of his father, she had never moved past her grieving to find comfort in another.

It was impossible to think he could ever find a love like that—and so when Njord mentioned again Sialuk, he found his interest piquing, even if from the angle of learning more of the woman who had formed the budding pack. “Have none pleased her enough?” The question light, Argent stole a glance to his companion, amusement clear only from his own curiosity.