A laugh rolled off his tongue at her comment, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You make your mother and I sound so old.” So much had happened in the years he had spent in Relic Lore—some days he certainly felt much older than he was due to the unexpected trauma he had experienced. Even now, as an adult, he was still learning; still making mistakes.
He considered her question for a moment, his lips curving into a soft frown. She had voiced a thought that often plagued him, for he often worried about getting involved in something that did not concern him or the river wolves. The ghost had already made a promise to the Whitestone wolves, that if things went sour between them and the Fields pack he would offer Hearthwood’s services. If he thought it was necessary. But how would Drestig and his pack react, to see the river wolves aiding Whitestone? “It could be,” he mused aloud, his apple-green gaze focused on the raven Baranski, “but their problems are their own. Unless it effects us directly. But remaining neutral is the best thing for us to do.” He nodded, softly, as if to confirm his words. “We have done well in keeping to ourselves thus far; I’d like for that to continue.” Hearthwood had always been a private, quiet pack. Minding their own and remaining impartial to their neighbours. He would not allow some feud between packs to ruin that for them.
“I think that’s a great idea.” His tail wagged excitedly behind him, his former frown quickly turning around. Lachesis was pleased to hear that she had been building relationships with their neighbours. The Baranski was proving herself to be an excellent scout. “Lorcán and I hunted for herbs not too long ago,” he commented, absently, after she responded to his question. “I’m glad to hear that you two got along. It looks like his advice is working, you’ve been doing an excellent job.”
stick with those who stick with you