they should call me icarus, flying this close to the sun

Dream had never met a a pack wolf before. Born a loner and living as a loner, he realy only encountered his own kind, and so he hadn't exactly known what to expect when he let loose that call. A small part of him- probably the part that knew this was stupid- urged him to leave before whoever was coming had a chance to find him, but that little voice was drown out almost just as quickly by the rush that flooded his veins as the realization settled into him. This was it. Finally, he'd given himself at least a chance of getting a taste of what he was after, and it felt fucking good. And so he held his ground and waited, and boy, was the wait short.

Through the tall grass a hulking figure appeared, body cast black in inky fur slashed through with white. Dream had seen wolves that were bigger than him or that held odd fur patterns- even the odd mutation- but it still felt strange to see, especially when he knew there was nothing particularly special about him at first glance. You can fight. he reminded himself, and your fucking [i]smarttoo. Maybe that was his pride kicking in, but he knew he wasn't wrong. He wasn't some weak idiot that couldn't contribute or get shit done.

"Welcome to the Armada packlands- what brings you to my border?" the words are surprisingly civil, something he appreciates given how territorial he knows some of the groups can be. And so he responds in kind, his words equally as straight to the point and lacking any aggression. "I came to join. I can fight, and I can follow orders. My name's Dream, by the way."

Better to just get it out there, right?