Swiftcurrent Creek i'll be the outlaw, bounty on my head; you be my shelter, a safe place to rest

The swarthy wolf fell in step alongside him. The motion was simple in its intention, and Constantine appreciated the feeling of camaraderie it elicited. He considered his words at the question – his gaze flicking back to study his companion before giving a light shrug.
 
He was not one to gossip, but the words that came from him now were nothing less than what he would say to the face of the individual himself: “There was an illegitimate breeding in our ranks this year. It would seem the male took advantage of the youth and naivety of the female.” He paused then, feeling his lips curl back in a disapproving smile – one of bitterness. Perhaps it was his soft spot for the youthful generation as he considered his younger siblings – if they had been taken advantage of, there would have been instant justice delivered.
 
“Needless to say, we’re a new pack, and are sorting out our laws and expectations.”