Duck Lake i laid the guns to rest

It became quickly apparent to Nefarious that he and the scarred, ivory man would have issue with communication. The other male's expression took on one of choler, leaving the shaman with a swell of frustration within his chest, amplified when the male hissed at him in some other language. One that Nefarious could not understand. Unfortunate though it was, Nefarious was only bilingual and whatever tongue this male was hissing and spitting at him at it was not one of the two. Inuit had been taught to him by Suluk, and common tongue was, well what it was: common. Most wolves were able to speak the language that they all, for the most part, referred to as 'common tongue'. That did not seem to the be the case here. Pumpkin gaze stared unwavering at the scarred man, unimpressed that it was, somehow, his (Nefarious) fault for not speaking whatever language it was that he used. Perhaps that was not what was being thought — after all Nefarious was not a mind reader — but it was the feeling that Nefarious received, whether it was correct or not.

Nefarious' lips curled in a warning when the male spoke to him again in his foreign language, the words sounding harsh to Nefarious' ears, confirming what the shaman assumed. “Look it's not my fault you can't speak common tongue. Don't take it out on me.” The shaman hissed in return, hackles bristling with unease and irritation. The shaman contemplated asking Sos to curse the male but as it appeared to Nefarious he was already suffering a curse. It could not have been easy to suffer with not understanding the common tongue, which tended to be what the wolves of these Wilds spoke, and the light half, the part that Atka called too of the neutral shaman spoke that it was a curse enough.