Bearclaw Valley Will

Oh, lovely. A brat.

The pup regarded him with disdain over the carcass. He wondered what it was exactly about the large dead creature that displeased her. It was at least half as big as she was. Hadn’t her parents told her how dangerous badgers were? How one of this size would have killed her easily and without a second thought.

She scoffed at his request, too, which elicited an eye roll from the rogue.

Perfect. Useless and uneducated.

He looked up from her attempts to drag the heavy thing away, noticing the rippling approach of another. Thankfully, I do have other options.

Winter’s Wake straightened as the mud golem came to stand between him and the girl. He noted the assumption and made the painstaking decision not to react with derision. He had, after all, predicted how things may look, even in his attempts to minimize the appearance of impropriety. Still, the presumption was ludicrous, when considering the fact that it was Wake who had called for an audience in the first place.

I have business with the crown. It was open-ended enough that the packwolf might either admit to being a leader himself or otherwise presume that Wake knew that he was not a leader and required the actual leader’s attendance. He preferred not to waste time explaining his purpose here twice. I have brought a gift, he gestured towards the killed badger lorded over by the girl, which doubled as a meal and a safety precaution in favor of the Valley’s apparent young. I seek to foster good will between myself and Bearclaw Valley.