Though he was not one to fear death, he couldn’t help but be grateful he had survived his fight against Virgil; he was certain they still had some sort of purpose here on this earth. To serve the gods, no matter how great they must suffer, would forever be their goal.
"Katja," he repeated her name in a somber greeting. For once, he wore no smile. The gleeful facade that he wore with such ease needed a rest and it was only around Katja that he would fall into such a thoughtful, serious mood. The man fell silent as he made his way to his cousin’s side, coming to sit near her. His eyes watched the river before them for a moment, taking in the earthy cavern. Rather than being surrounded by strictly stone, this place was teeming with moss and the dank smell of soil. It was relaxing, and he prided her silently on choosing such a place to spend the afternoon.
She spoke soon after he settled down, speaking openly about what they ought to do now. She seemed to think that they ought to continue as marauders, rather than try to stake a claim on a pack. Thus far, they had failed in that manner. Her idea was a good one, and he had little need to argue. "So be it," he agreed, the briefest hint of a smile flashing over his features. "Truthfully, I am glad you have come to this conclusion. Pack life is not for me." Yfir had been okay, and he had been excited at the possibility of spreading some of his knowledge to the younger wolves; but most had been heretics and nonbelievers. A lone life would certainly suit them better... as marauders, as traders, unbound by duty and free to do as they pleased. Yes, it certainly sounded good to him. "I believe this is what we must do." He agreed easily with her, eying her curiously. He had no doubt she was tired of everything to do with that Virgil woman, and he was not surprised she wanted nothing more to do with the life of packs.
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