Swiftcurrent Creek He’s a unicorn with a single horn, he has a cup of tea in the early morn

Scout. His name was Scout, and he was a scout. It sounded like a pretty last-minute invention to Moss, whose skepticism often bordered paranoia. She squinted when he spoke his name, intentionally trying to make him uncomfortable. He'd already shrunk a bit from her imposing presence- something told her that she would not need to do much to intimidate him further. She'd looked to Shardik to explain, after all- so when Scout spoke up, Moss put a bit more of her weight on the bird she'd been carrying with her, and allowed its bones to crackle audibly beneath her weight. 

She watched his expression carefully when he spoke with Shardik. She didn't reply to Akavir when he spoke, as she assumed he was talking to Shardik. After all- this young, lean wolf was more a physical match for her apprentice than he would ever be for Moss. 

He sought information about the pack, so he could choose the best one for himself. Personally, Moss didn't want to take in yet another wolf who wasn't even a yearling yet. They'd already taken in one wanderer, who'd honestly seemed as though he'd needed refuge. This one? No. He didn't give her the impression that he needed a home just yet. He could go to Kvarsheim or Silver Creek; maybe they had room for more youths. 

Moss remained silent, keeping her gaze on the young man, willing to amuse herself with testing him to see how he fared under such a stern eye.