the reaper is not grim

As Bazi spoke, Razorback comprehended her meaning. Razorback would simply say nothing. It was not uncharacteristic. If her leaders saw it fit for the Bypass wolves to know, they would tell them. And if they believed she ought to tell them, they would tell her. It was simple. Razorback enjoyed that. Bazi's response was long-winded, but her subordinate was attentive. A mere flick of her left lobe was all that was supplied afterward, until the question.

Razorback was not too inquisitive. And she knew very, very little of the packs history. Truly, what she had supplied Bazi was all that she knew. Scimitar was as talkative as she herself was, she had gleaned. So it was Bazi who—if she so desired—would teach her of that. All of a millisecond had past when Razorback shook her head. No, he had not told her this. And while Razorback was curious in what way he had left—had he been chased out? Had he abandoned the pack, without word?—she did not feel it appropriate to ask. If Bazi wished for her to know, she would tell her. It was clear the pale leader had all of her attention.