Kintla Flatlands The voices inside my head, I hate them.

When it came to whether or not any of them had given him trouble, Mordecai was initially prepared to say yes. But his tongue stayed as he tilted his head to the side carefully, as though he were thinking back well into the past. Not entirely sure whether or not the one who had given him trouble was apart of that pack, he wasn't about to either give the satisfaction of affirming what the dark wolf was asking, or totally denying it either. All in all, Mordecai really hadn't much trouble with the wolves of the Wilds. Thankfully.

“No more than I anticipated, you could say.” He added a smile to the end of his words, letting that be what settled the trouble he had ever received. Mordecai, for the most part, would not have gotten as far out from his homeland if he had been anything but decent towards others. He knew when to pick a fight, and more importantly, when not to. “Why do you ask though? Are you guys the local troublemakers around here?” His smile warped then, melting into something more mischievous. He meant it in jest and only hoped it would be taken that way, but, ah well, whatever happened, happened.