Blacktail Deer Plateau a drained bourbon bottle laying next to my head

Dance, dance!

If there was to be a deliberation phase, it certainly was short in his opinion. Dante did not query him as to what he was capable of doing, or try then and there to sway him to stay longer than that. In truth, Mordecai more than likely would. Once in a pack, those bonds were definitely forged. They were bonds hard to break as well; leaving the Spine had not been in his favor originally, even though he learned quickly that the sheltered pack was not entirely the right fit for him. Who ruled it, he supposed, did not ultimately matter. Wolves were sometimes keen to bend to the will of others when their personalities clashed. He was not one of those wolves, and so choosing somewhere he thought to have like qualities of his own sounded appealing.

It was a debt that he would swiftly move to repay, either way.

A smile broke across his muzzle once more, this time rather humored with Dante's statement. "It shouldn't be too hard, I'm more fluff than anything this time of year." While he had lost some of that grandeur in his build, Mordecai was not gaunt and pathetic. His winter had been well, in spite of the nomadic state he had roamed in. "I know it's a lot to ask of you," he added on afterward, this time humor replaced with appreciation. "I'm more than willing to earn my keep all the same."