Approachable

The Warlord was spending a lot of time by the central firepit. Despite the heat his den produced, he liked the warmth of the flame. He liked to be here, reachable to his pack. Approachable. It was also a good place to work on making whatever contraption he felt like. Today, he was mucking around with the trap that Wren had given him.

She had used it to catch a pheasant, and at least for a time it had been a life after the trap had gone off. He didn’t want to injure the birds if he did decide to catch the birds. He turned it over in his paws a few times, considering it.