Tori Bradley
Luna
Lycaon
Lycaon watched the Alpha as surveyed the situation. He noticed surprised in her eyes when she looked at him. He wondered what it was that surprised her, but paid no mind when she focused her gaze fully on him with a soft expression. A wolf hadn't looked at him like that since he was a puppy. He listened raptly when she spoke. “Lycaon, the former Northern Mountaineer…” she said, raising her gaze to the sky. He knew that look. She was listening for a sign from the Ancestors. “If refuge is what you seek, then my pack may be it… In your eyes, I see a kindness that no wolf ever shows when faced with such intimidation and authority. Though be warned, unless you prove yourself before the Full Moon, you will be an Omega in our pack…” she said. Lycaon felt his shoulders sag in relief. He truly hadn't expected to receive such a generous response. Most Alpha's would've tested and interrogated him before even considering allowing him into their pack. That was the moment he knew the rumors were true. The Borealis were the prophesied Fifth Wind, and they would soon reign as the most powerful pack alive, with Leila as their Alpha.
Lycaon finally allowed himself a moment of weakness when her attention left him in favor of the Southern Suns. His body slid down to the ground until lay on his side against the rock. He laid his head protectively over his wound, licking at gently to soothe the ache. He registered the conversation enough to hear that the Southern Suns were emissaries sent to assess the Borealis, ones who could very well be living here for the entirety of Freezing Ground. He noticed the animosity emanating from the Selsa towards the foreign wolves, and he understood it. Had he been a part of this pack long enough to develop a connection to it, he'd have done the same thing. When the Selsa's gaze switched to him and the warrior wolf sauntered over to stand in front of him with a distrustful, appraising gaze, he raised his head to meet the wolf's eyes.
"You're a Mountaineer. I can tell by your coat. Not mine, surely, but my father taught me that you can discern our kind based off of the pelt. Who was your father?" he asked. Lycaon cursed inside his head. That was a question he simply wasn't prepared to answer. His past was something he wanted--no, needed--to reveal over time. If he did it all at once, they either wouldn't believe him, or they would distrust him and deem him a threat. So, he had two choices. Lie, and protect himself now, or tell the truth, and protect himself later. When he glanced at the Alpha, his decision was made. He knew she was someone who would value his honesty.
"I was the Alpha. My father was Alaric," he said.
(If that's okay?)