Kintla Flatlands in the heart of the beast they will lay

It seemed his silent greeting had been enough to prompt speech from the other, who queried Mordecai as to who he was. Though the wolf seemed young, the way he held himself spoke multitudes about him. While Mordecai had never been aware of any packs that rested directly within the plains, he also knew that he could have been wrong. A lot of things had changed since Silvertip had relocated itself to the Spine, and with that had come direct sideline knowledge of what was going on across that vast expanse of ground.

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, he was prompt in response. “Mordecai. Who are you?” The question was followed with a cant of his head, a curious query in which he used to try and determine just what kind of creature he had encountered. Perhaps he had a pack nearby, hence the exuded sense of reign. Or maybe he didn't; the thought had also occurred to the tawny Ostrega that there were plenty trying to get their act together and lay claim to something before the snow fell. The thought that the wolf before him was neither had yet to cross his mind.