Arrow Lake we are made of flesh

praimfaya doesn't actually expect to find anyone at the borders — a loner judging by the lack of any definable pack scent. eyes of frostbound silver settle cooly upon him as the wanheda maintains a safe distance within diaspora's claim, lip curling in visual warning as he takes a step nearer. he, that is cloaked in shadows and demands to know the name of diaskru's claim. he makes his demand in common and wanheda cannot help but dislike that he makes a demand without offering anything in return. that was not how this exchange of information worked and though she is young she is not ignorant.

your name and intentions at our borders first, tripa. praimfaya makes her own demands with an imperious rise of her muzzle, stare unrelenting. if he could not exchange the common courtesies of being at their borders then she would offer him no information in return.