Ankyra Sound sheepskin

The dim stranger turned to face him with faded yellow eyes. The ghost regarded him with a hollow expression. He was neither unimpressed or dazzled by the shape of the other male. His molten stare lingered on the darker wolf’s frame before latching to his face with a frown. The response was also not impressive to the ghost, even in the slightest. He did nothing to hide this from his face. One ear swiveled atop his crown and his brows furrowed slightly.

“And? There’s chance for home in at least ten other packs in the wilds. Give me a real reason,” the old brute stated in a prickly baritone. Really, he was just testing his luck with the male. Wylla would have needed to be present for a real acceptance, anyway. Kierkegaard did not care; he knew that she did not seem to be fond of wolves who were unable to dwell with the Grimnismal brood. The ghost was merely testing this stranger.