Moonsong Glacier through the fog of an early morn

This answer, though almost positive, was not what he'd been looking for. There was no right or wrong answer, of course, and he did not let his expression show his displeasure — but he was just a little hurt.

For a moment, anyway. Then he was only sad.

"No," he said quietly, still studying her face. "They are my people, for now. Mine to protect, until the next cloudwoman comes to lead them."

He felt he was failing already. Tulugak had gone. Aminthe had disappeared. He wanted to see this pack unified, but it was a group of wolves who seemed to have no hope of understanding each other. How was he meant to fix that? How was he meant to hold them together, when it seemed necessary to speak a different language to each one?

He imagined waking up in the morning to find her gone, too.

"Am I not your conclave?" he ventured, his tone even.