Broken Antler Fen I thought of you when I heard that song

emboldened by the fact that the stranger isn't laughing at him; roswell puffs up further a bit like a wolf version of a peacock, eager to test and explore this newfound, budding skill as guardian. yeah, it's my pack. well not his; he wasn't a leader but he was born here and thus it was his in that sense. uh, roswell falters for a moment, considering and counting quickly in his head. uhm ten. eleven wolves counting me. would he have been older and knew a bit more about patrolling he might not've given that information so freely ( despite that the size of the pack could easily be discerned from the scents of the borders ).

i'm roswell. he introduces. who're you? are you looking to join? he asks the questions a bit rapid-fire, not really giving much leeway for the stranger to respond to them.