That deafen us like hurricanes

Nirah had let himself soak into the background. Though after his mother’s murderur had been killed he’d lacked the previous resolve he’d been using to keep him going. It had bleed into depression but he wasn’t one to express his emotions in that way. There was a bit of shame felt when he showed up late. But, new leader, new chance. This giant of a wolf was their warlord and if it was one thing he couldn’t deny, it was that he owed everything to the Armada. His home, his being. Sirius settled in a favorite place in his heart and if Basilisk was his spawn Nirah had high hopes for him. Not for Nirah himself though.

Carefully as late as he was he approached boldly but with his head in a neutral posturing. He spoke directly to the warlord. "Basilisk, congratulations on taking over the mantle. I apologize for being late and for my lack of involvement in the pack. I’m ready to train and I think raiding in the winter is an excellent idea." he was still an apprentice after all. Yet his claws were itching to get some blood. He wanted to find his drive again. His goals and foremost a purpose in his life past being the broken puppy whose home had been taken from him too young.