It was not strange for a wolf like Ciervo to wish that others weren't like him. Not because he prided himself on being special, unique or anything of the sort, but because he thought that, counting himself , there were already too many thives in the world. He was pleasantly surprised to see that despite the cold and scarcity of food Winter brought along the man continued to insist he was not there to be nasty.
"Formerly, yes" he admitted while twitching the little whiskers over his lip. From the minute he had been able to Ciervo had taken hunting as his main interest. Though he also had a passion -- and quite a talent -- for being an instigator and a fighter he had dedicated most of his energy and free time to perfecting his techniques and strategies. More than a trade or job however, Ciervo had seen it as a passion -- or as most things in his life : a hobby.
The sense of hunger strenghtened inside his stomach, which now took its own turn to articulate its desires with a loud growl, he quickly silenced by lashing his tongue over his jowls. Though he would not mind the company, and could probably use it, the Ostrega listened half-heartedly to the man's introduction, only saving from his words that the man held a high status "Ciervo Ostrega, lone ranger"he barked with a shrug. The mention of his former pack was not relevant in the conversation. It belogned to the past, and though it was a past he often missed it was not one he wished to repeat.
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