Gyrfalcon's Keep and when the weeds begin to grow

Exousia nodded to the chipper wolf, whose blackbrown coat did not match her bright spirit and lilting voice. (They should perhaps switch pelts with another to help onlookers know who had the darker heart between the two of them.) I have yet to meet a wolf in these lands who speaks a tongue other than this, she confirmed, snorting gently. It is a shame. Especially for those like herself who had none to share her own languages with.

The silvershade lifted her chin slightly and appraised the newly named Thyra with a critical eye. You are well met, Thyra. I am called Exousia. Satisfied with the healthy appearance of the girl, she decided to respond honestly to the question. I have not, she answered, a regretful note in her tone. I seek no pack but my own. And though she was too proud to apologize for unwittingly traipsing into their claim, she would have been a fool not to be interested in forming bonds with others.

What values does your pack uphold? There was a barely noticeable tilt of her head as she asked.