Mouseling's tone was clear enough within Clouse's ears. He had parts of his family that he despised as well, and the other wolf need not say anymore if he didn't wish to. Rather than press, he simply let his head bob in acknowledgment. Were he a more empathetic creature he might have even smiled kindly, but the Archer's lips remained flat and gaze straight ahead instead.
"I'm sure it's had it's share of packs," he answered, the change of subject giving his mouth a wry tilt. He of course knew of one in particular, but, well, it was dead and gone, wasn't it?
Just like the Ridge should have been.
"Let me know if you need to rest, yeah? No sense getting you there on bloodied paws."