Lost Creek Hollow no good deed

He smiles. It doesn't happen often and it certainly doesn't look natural. If anything it looks a little forced, and stern. He looks like his grandfather (not that Tulimaq would ever know that). It is interesting to him that this man has no children; he is of the correct age, and seems fit and strong, holding a commendable presence even if he doesn't mean to. This is not the leader he is speaking to, though. So far Tulimaq's dealings with the local wolves have taught him that the wolf in charge is rarely making rounds. A pity. He wonders too, who could best this man and rule over him.

When the questions are turned back upon him, Tulimaq looks away; he relaxes a little bit, thinks, and comments easily, I'm alone. So far nobody has impressed him enough to make him swear loyalty, and he hasn't made a great impression on any rooted band of wolves. He doesn't expect to either — they are too foreign to his ways. Well, except this wolf, and perhaps his people. Tulimaq misses his warrior brothers and sisters.

I want to know how strong you are, he drawls next, gaze flashing as he looked upon the swarthy wolf again, because strength is important. The wolves of this valley are very different from those I was born to. Their children — some of them had not heard the word warrior before I came to teach them. It is... Strange. He licks his lips, gaze trailing to the dirt as he considers this admission. You look like you've seen battle — did that drive your migration?