Swiftcurrent Creek There's a whole new master of magnetism in town.

Well, he didn't run off - so that was good. Stark licked his lips, gaze drifting across the male's figure. He seemed so young, and yet within him came this sense of an ancient soul that had taken residence within him. It made him infinitely cherubic and somehow beyond age at the same time. He was a paradox in that regard and Stark found himself curious to know more, but, he did not want to pry. "Not since the tail end of Spring," Stark admitted. He'd come into the wilds just on the cusp of Spring bleeding into Summer, both seasons offering their own shift as the wolves sought to survive and then recover from the famine. 

"I lead a pack in the mountains called Marauder's Keep." No longer did they hide as previous leaders had dictated. Stark was a proud beast, and he was proud most of all of his wolves. He wanted to show them off in their own rights, to show how far they'd come and how much they had done. "How long have you been on your own, Armand?"