Blacktail Deer Plateau is one good lie and a river of blood

The man was impressive in stature, and by the scents he carried, Dutch knew he was likely on thin ice. But gifts warmed them to him, as did, he guessed, Ulloriaq's presence — although he might soon be disabused of the notion that Dutch was already spoken for. Still, his tail wagged in friendly encouragement as the man came closer.

"Well met," he replied, his voice warm. "I am Dutch. Alpha of Morningsong. This is my most trusted friend, Ulloriaq." He used the other man's word for leader, not wanting to give the impression of grandeur. He bowed, in fact, and rolled the parcel closer to Rusalka with the tip of his nose. "I will not keep you long from your business. I only wanted to introduce myself, and to bring furs made by our peltsmith, Eira."

The fur was fine, pale lynx — it had been difficult to procure, even though it had been young, and the pelt therefore smaller than it could have been. It had seemed fitting, however, since Dutch felt it was a grave insult not to know the other man's name.

"Perhaps you met Ariadne, our previous leader?" he hazarded, hoping that this was the case.