Just a quiet night?

Naiche was still aware of his suroundings but it was in a more dilluted sense now.  If he had been looking at an oil painting before now it was more of a soft water-paint background.  His focus was on the giant wolf.  Sirius seemed calm with no signs of aggression which was certainly a relief but there was no doubt in Naiche's mind that if he upset this wolf there would be trouble.  

A warlord? That wasn't a term he had heard used before as a pack rank but certainly a word he could understand.  This wolf could fight, and it could kill.  Naiche was willing to bet the wolf enjoyed both of those things, at least going by his own jaded musings. A gust of wind stronger than the gentle ones before swept by, storm was getting closer but no drops yet.

As the warlord looked down at him and asked Naiche if he could fight, it both triggered an alarm in his head and an indignant response that came to mind.  Naiche felt his muscles tighten a bit more as adrenaline flooded through him.  Still, Sirius was sitting, hardly a position to attack from. "Of course I can fight," he almost sounded a tad insulted by the question and as he continued the tone shifting to some passionate belief, "A wolf who can't fight is hardly a wolf.  Alone he'll die and in a pack he does nothing but weaken those who must waste energy protecting him.  I won't say I'm the best, but so long as I can stand I can fight."
 Naiche had apparently lost some of his concern at the wolf in front of him when his pride was riled up.  Let no one ever think him a coward.