Blackfoot Forest Sturm Und Drang

The ghost had not worried that Minna would poison the mind of the white woman. Upon meeting Pallas, he had thought her to be quite the savage creature, but this had not turned him away from her. Kierkegaard had known nothing but savagery in his time, and it would do him well to have a creature of his nature within the ranks of the Rosings pack. The other wolves would not be pleased that he had invited such a strange and ragged wolf into their midst, but he did not care… they belonged to him.
 
Kierkegaard had hunted in their forest, and between his jaws was a hare of medium size. He had not seen anything larger in the twisting trunks of the wood, but he was sure that there would be in the coming month. The buds were beginning to form on the trees once more, and the herds would be able to return. It allowed him peace to know that if they drove him from their pack, he would be able to survive on his own once more.
 
The scent of the female struck his nose, and the pale brute turned his crown to face her with a placid expression. The hare was still clasped between his jaws and he recalled how she had come in search of food. At the very least, her candid responses would be refreshing. Tossing the hare to her paws, the brute watched her. “How was your tour?” he inquired in a tone that suggested he cared very little.