Stavanger Bay he finds wings

it doesn't take the hale tundrian too long to discern a scent of 'new recruit' and follow it to its origin. a sweep of his polar gaze is given, acknowledging the show of respect and the greeting — though admittedly, it sounds a bit strange. he wonders if, perhaps like him, she speaks another tongue ( though it's been so long since he's dared to utter tundrian ).

hello, wintersbane returns it with a dip of his head and a small gesture of his muzzle intending to communicate that she could rise if she hasn't already.

i'm wintersbane; the saltking. he offers his name and title in introduction; black, leathery nostrils flaring as he drinks in her scent affirming that she was one of umbra's recruits. you've been accepted by the sealord, umbra. correct? he inquires. small talk wasn't one of his strong suits but it strikes him as necessary and the desire to learn about the wolves that would-be ( are ) his subordinates comes from the right place.