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

He appreciated the wolf's candor. No beating around the bush. He listed his attributes and his desire, and the Warlord took a step closer, looking over the sandy wolf for a moment. He was interested, but he didn’t let it show immediately. “Alright, Dream. What else can you do, can you hunt?” Surveying the wolf had told him he wasn’t starving, and the scent about him held no other wolves. It seemed likely the wolf would be giving an answer Sirius liked. The Armada badly needed hunters, with Winter on the way and the stores still diminished from the flooding. He needed wolves, but they needed to be able to pull their weight.

“I’m Sirius Fatalis, by the way.” He wiped the blood from his kill on the grass, before holding a giant paw out towards the smaller wolf. Leaning a little into the other wolf’s space. He wanted to gain some insight into what this wolf was made of.

"Speech"