It was strange to think that the wolf before him was once one of Sköll’s women before disappearing and arriving in Whitestone. The shadow had never been fond of his older brother’s interests… considering he had bewitched a female that Greer had once enjoyed the company of. He didn’t mind, for Hecate’s true colours showed when she chased the older Archer, seeking only the power that he possessed with his position in the Ridge. He was grateful that his brother had taken the floozy off his paws, for Greer wanted nothing to do with her and her wretched plans.

His brow arched as the pale, scarred female spoke once more, responding to his questions cheekily. The lanky subordinate snorted in amusement, his mercury coloured eyes rolling softly. “Night snow wolf?” He mused in response, his head falling to the side as he studied her through narrowed brows. “Too white!” He retorted, dismissing her previous statement with a shake of his head. She was far too pale to be a successful night wolf. Greer, on the other paw, blended perfectly in with his preferred surroundings. “But what do?” He asked again, his curiosity only growing as the conversation continued. 

The ebony Archer rolled his eyes at the dove’s comment despite the crooked grin that was painted across his maw. “Greer night wolf,” he hummed in agreement, his ears twitching as he spoke. The night was the Archer’s greatest ally, for he felt most at home beneath a blanket of stars and the moon to guide him. It made scouting missions a little more difficult, as there were few wolves that were as nocturnal as he was, but it was ideal for the solitary shadow.

He could not help but snicker at Piety’s comment about not being a good hunter. “Greer ok hunter,” he mumbled, sheepishly, in response, quickly dismissing his words with a sharp flick of his tail. Hunting had not come as easily to the shadow as scouting and stalking did. He could track the prey and study its movements, calculating the best method of attack was something he was working on. The only thing Greer had on his side was speed—his long legs rivalled those of a deer and he was usually able to chase down his prey quite easily. Perhaps he could help Piety with her hunting…

She spoke once more, this time offering him an apology. His brows squished together in confusion as a frown replaced his previous grin, his shoulders sagging slightly. Greer had not gotten a chance to spend much time with the scarred dove and he was finding himself enjoying her presence. He could see why his sister was fond of spending time with her. “Snow wolf not keep Greer,” he countered with a shrug. Perhaps she wanted to be alone and was dismissing him. He almost laughed at the irony of the situation. “Snow wolf find Greer… Greer help hunt. When not busy,” he suggested as he padded away from her, his tail wagging slowly behind him. Although he had enjoyed their rather peculiar conversation Greer never shied away from the opportunity to be alone. As Whitestone swelled in size it made it more difficult for the shadow to slip away unnoticed by his packmates.

He thought about seeking out the scarred dove later, to ensure that she was doing better and was still interested in his offer for a hunt. Unless she found him first. Fade.