The clock is ticking faster, as we live

The news reached the North of the pack's demise, and even with the busy load the flood had pushed onto his plate, the Warlord could not help but come. He needed to see it for himself. The fall of Valhalla, a pack that he had once counted among his allies, and then his enemies when they had put their pride above a wolf that they had claimed to love. A wolf that he had loved as a daughter.

Already, a wolf sought to claim their pickings, and he was curious too about this. He crossed over into lands that had until recently been claimed. It had been a long time since he had set paw anywhere near this territory, and he glanced at their wall as he crossed between them. His eyes found the wolf that sought to stake their claim, and he studied him, as well. Then his eyes moved to Gilgamesh, and he raised a brow at the Raider king. One other wolf had arrived so far, a dark wolf that also smelled of pack. One he was not familiar with.


"Speech"