In the arms of the Armada

Dragging the caribou back to camp hadnt been productive for speech. Bast had trotted along beside them, attention on their surrounds and possible hazards. Marshal has scouted on ahead, and together Lotus and Sirius had dragged the carcus home.

They entered through the Tall Grass Plains, and the Warlord took her into the communal meeting area. They approached the large fire pit, which lay unlit, but prepared, beside the great obelisk he had installed. The obelisk was a tall, flat-surfaced stone with the rules and regulations of the Armada pack etched into its side. He ignored both features, and brought her to the cellar. The large underground area opened via a trap door, but he did not do so yet. He released his hold on the prey and sat back on his hunches, breathing a sigh of relief as he stretched his jaw. "Welcome to the Armada. For future reference, this is where we store our food. We skin and sort the meat before preserving it. The scraps we bury just outside the pack limits. No need to encourage scavengers on the land." He informed her. "Feel free to look around. You can pick from an unclaimed den, or I can help you dig your own." He offered. He had dug out a few basic dens to situate the new members he planned to bring in as the pack grew.