Hideaway Strath queen of crows

:D

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Ceannasach is patrolling when the howl rises from the secluded mouth of the Strath. He thinks of the last stranger to call him to the edge of Teaghlaigh’s claim. It only serves to remind him that his work of settling into the Hinterlands is far from over. While terms are uncertain with Silver Creek he has yet to go to Golden Glade to at least strike some sort of neutrality with them. The gangster wants to be clear on a single thing: he wants no trouble. He has babes to help raise and a pack to lead. He has no time nor interest in starting or finishing a war. He makes his way to her, regardless, because she has announced her presence and the guise of gentleman is not one easily forsaken. Not when he craves old-fashioned decalogue.

He appears on the scene and is unsurprised that his fiery, twin sun gaze touches upon Hemlock’s fire-kissed pelage first. He is grateful for her efforts, for all that she has done and continues to do for Teaghlaigh. For him. He has no red herring anymore — as the first ended tragically and the second was nothing short of a nightmarish mess that he is still cleaning up — but the gangster takes up position beside Hemlock, neutral as his fiery gaze assesses the platinum blonde woman before him, drawing in her scent through flared, leathery nostrils. She is a year or two his elder he roughly estimates but he scents no sign of illness upon her, nor any other scents. She is lone. This does not immediately stifle his weariness, however. He will not lower his guard again, not so that another can stab him in the back when he least expects it. So he looks to the stranger upon his borders and speaks “What brings you to these borders, stranger?” the deep, smoky timbre of his voice quiet — like the deceptive gentle rumbling of distant thunder — and authoritative in it's nature.

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