Frogspawn Swamp thousands of years, an eternity, without changing

A violent pack, one too rough for his tastes, evidently. Something about this description, or its inherent assumptions of who he presented for them to see, drew a small glint of a smirk. Ah, perhaps. And it suits you fine? he asked, never having pinned Charles for the particularly coarse sort, but as he glanced over him, notched in small scars here and there, he wondered if he should rewrite that assumption. Not that he had known the coywolf all that well before, either. Or really let himself be known to any great length.

Either way, it is what it is. I'm content to roam and scout around for now, and at least you've a home to return to when it's all done, he supposed, no matter what it was for Charles' day. And, Antares believed he was suited to going without one right now, it seemed. He hoped this sensation would be on its way before wintertime began to creep into the lands, but for the time being, he was not going to settle for less, not now. If nothing else, he intended to explore the coastline better, not join a pack just because it was the convenient thing to do.