Hoshor Plains love into a weapon

while arktos isn't particularly unsettled per se by the woman who wished to control the creek, it didn't mean that he wouldn't be keeping a keen eye on her side of the borders. he suspected yellowstone had her outnumbered — and even if they didn't the odds didn't perturb him. perhaps that was one of his fatal flaws, his achilles heel. perhaps he'd gotten his ass beat to hell and back and that had led up to ground zero.

hopin' for peace is like hopin' for rain in the dust season, useless and disappointing. we keep the peace ourself, until peace is no longer a viable course of action. he wouldn't outright seek war — the idea fills him with a sudden fatigue, a weight of a kevlar vest on his shoulders. but he would also defend this land and the wolves that called it home until his dying breath. gladly, regardless of how warweary he might feel at the thought of it.

a'right, arktos murmurs to her words, relieved that it would be her and not him making the diplomatic tour. he was the no filter, dirt on his boots, no filter on his mouth. diplomacy and him did not oft go hand in hand. that was not to say he could not see the usefulness is opening up a trade route and having friends in other packs. i can salt and pack some meat, wrap it in some furs for you to take.