take my hand

It was Bass Destruction himself who answered her call, looking relaxed though distinctly confused to see both previous alphas of Ebony and Yfir on his doorstep. "Bass," she greeted him, then tilted her head marginally to the yearling who trailed curiously up behind him. Were they bearing gifts? "In a manner of speaking," she returned. "It would be more accurate to call them... samples. Thanks to Kassander, Yfir has acquired the art of brewing a substance called 'alcohol'. We have a small amount here of the type called 'mead' for your pack to test if it is your desire to do so. This particular type is very strong, so most suitable for ceremonial purposes, though we also have samples of less strong drinks that are more suitable for recreational uses." Her voice dropped easily into the no-nonsense cadences of a trader as she had so often seen her father do, long ago in her childhood, but she had other business to discharge before she got into truly seeking to haggle. Beginning to slip free of the last of her 'samples' she continued to speak directly to Bass. "Kassander tells me he has yet to discharge Ebony's old obligation to your pack for the loan of warriors for the siege. We are also here to relieve that debt. Kassander will be remaining with you, with his companions, as a teacher until that debt is repaid." And picking the jar her nose identified as mead, rather than the grape wine and the ciser she also carried, she lifted the small clay thing in her teeth and set it before Bass and his yearling. "Would you or your packmate care to assess the mead? It adds a certain... grandeur to ceremonial occassions, if your pack participates in such things. Or perhaps the ciser, if you do not care for heavier fare?" She nudged forward another small jar of the honey-cider. "It is a very summery brew, light, and quite suitable for smaller celebrations."