Broken Antler Fen tossed in a cell to feast with the fleas

Maybe all of their plans had never gone according to plan back in the day; he chuckled at the thought, a brief snippet of memory that wasn’t all bad or all good. It came to pass though as they moved along in their conversation, and his thoughts turned to talk of their neighbors. This too required some recollection—how long had it been since he himself had taken stock of all that was nearby? The answer blanched his mood a touch; it had been too long.

“Neverwinter is possibly our biggest contender in the winter,” he affirmed first, “but for the most part it’s vagrants we have to keep an eye on. I believe there’s still a pack along the river somewhere our in the prairies, but…” he trailed, tossing his head gently this way and that. “I don’t worry about them.” No point in it, out of sight and out of mind and all. The two packs rarely had interaction to the best of his knowledge.

“For the most part Moonspear does not have a lot of competition and when we do, we all come to a mutual agreement that is favorable to us,” he remarked then with a thin-lipped smirk. They had numbers and knowledge of the land on their side, and they had outlasted the majority of their neighbors thus far.