Bearclaw Valley who among you will be able to stand?

In her peripheral vision, the gaunt timber wolf assumed a low position, snagging Ameline's attention for only a moment before her gaze focused on her mate again. She was surprised to see how broadly he smiled, and she tracked her gaze from eye to eye as if searching for any sign that this was intended to be a joke, but saw only amusement and something akin to pride. 

Sariel was obviously quite weak, and taking in a starving adult wolf who looked as bedraggled as them was unbecoming. What kind of reputation would they get, if they ended up taking in every orphaned child and skin-and-bones wanderer who passed their way? Her skepticism showed in the light dip of the corners of her lips, though her expression lifted slightly when he mentioned a key word. 

Obedient.

Her gaze quit flicking and steadied, and she drew in a breath. As if reading his thoughts, she wondered what she could ask the Sariel to do to prove their willingness to serve, but she blinked, as if digesting the suggestion that Sariel could be eventually trained to hunt specifically for the girls. Her mate entertained what could be a wonderful idea- but only as long as the wolf could be trained to hunt. All Ameline saw, currently, was a wolf who was failing to thrive on their own- not necessarily the top candidate for a pack hunter. 

The wolf's light shivering did nothing to improve her impression. Her frown deepened. 

All the same- she didn't want to compromise whatever idea it was that Sariel had of them, by questioning the scrawny wolf in front of her mate. She warmed her expression toward her mate for a moment, before flicking a tempered gaze toward what seemed to be the newest addition to their flock. 

"If we take you in, you owe uth." She stated. "Thith ain't a buffet. Onthe you get yuh thtrength, yuh hafta contribute. Underthtood?"