May I Borrow A Cup Of Sugar?

Tyrian nodded in agreement as the stranger asserted that a lot of packs were having that problem. That was true as far as Tyrian could tell. In Sweetgrass Basin the pack had been practically shoulder to shoulder with more than one group for awhile. The West of Boreas had been stuffed to the gills. It seemed over time the groups had spaced out. By now some had even gone home and hopefully Legion would be among that number soon. Tyrian was eager to be home. A little nervous about it too because by then the pack would be under his command. Big changes were in store for him and for Legion.

His pack was in Auster, huh? As far as Tyrian knew there was only one pack in Auster. All he knew about The Risen Empire he'd learned from his father who had rudely reminisced more than once about a hyper religious guy from that family who had taken over Abaven and then at some point fought a crazy man. He was under the impression they were all like that and absently wondered what kind of religious lunacy lurked beneath this stranger's chill facade.

"Years, I imagine," he said quietly in response to Aureus' musing about the forest's regeneration time frame. As for where he was from... "Legion. My family's been in the South for generations." They'd had packs, they'd be rogues, but no matter their group status they'd been there for quite some time. "You're from The Risen Empire, right? Correct me if I'm wrong but that's the only pack in Auster right now."