Kintla Flatlands such deliberate disguises.

Interestingly enough, they had come the same way. For a moment, he wondered if Anselm encountered Caiaphas, who had plucked Mordecai out by the sea readily. The chances of such he supposed were likely, though given their more recent meeting he could have only imagined how the two-toned siren treated him. Directness was not oft appreciated and he felt that much about the youth before him. But their likeness ended there, for the moment. Mordecai held no true opinion of the ocean. It was simply there. It was a temptress and he imagined to someone unable to find a clean water source they would have been overjoyed. But he knew that the waters of the ocean were nasty, salty. Not worth the effort to drink. A factoid he had learned the hard way ages ago.

He nodded to the query, affirming that he had been inland. But there was no mention that he had lived there and that was something the Ostrega intended to keep close to his breast. His own past was not something he wished to go about unfurling to someone for all intensive purposes, was a stranger. "I don't know about hundreds of packs, but there are certainly a lot of wolves. This place, like others, calls them in. There's plenty to keep them around. The game's decent, the region big enough to keep the packs in check." For the most part, Mordecai did not have the sense that the packs were bunched up on each other. Except for the fact that in a way, they may have been. But that hearkened back upon his lead of the Spine, where he had worried of Meldresi's pack and the Caldera to their east.

"There's a lot of pockets like this one all over the place. Not too close together though. I guess we all naturally band together somewhere if the conditions are right." With that, he felt silent. If Anselm wanted to know more, Mordecai would let him pry for it. He had found the best way to keep up a conversation was to throw down breadcrumbs, from time to time.