maybe, I

The gigantic wolf was quick to reassure him that the territory was unoccupied, that he had been drawn in by the scent of the fire drifting to his own territories nearby. Pale gaze drifted to the smoke that permeated the cooking flesh of the boar, tracking its undulating motions along the roof of the cavernous mine entry until its delicate fingerling wisps escaped out into the frigid air beyond. It was quite useful to learn that there was a pack nearby, one that was actively investigating any emerging threats or dangers nearby. A tidbit to be tucked away for later.

The titanic figure introduced himself as Basilisk of the Armada, a pair of strong names. The connotations of coiled serpents and military prowess did not go unnoticed, and the gilded brute cast an inquisitive gaze towards the older male. He was certainly a powerful looking wolf, and there was the aroma of many bodies lingering in the undercurrents of his scent as it passed across the short distance between them. With the smoke and the sizzling meat so close, it was difficult to pick out much more than that. "Melchior," he returned in kind, the simple utterance paired with a respectful inclination of his head in greeting.

"Would you care to stay and share in my meal, so that your journey was not entirely in vain?" he asked, and while his expression was decidedly neutral, the glint of curiosity in his lavender gaze was unmistakable. There was more than enough to feed them both, though perhaps not to fully satiate the enormous blue-black wolf. A trade of meat for some information surrounding this nearby kingdom of the Armada seemed a worthwhile exchange, granting him some much needed familiarity with the new locale in which he'd found himself.