“Me too,” the man seemed to cough out, and Sif’s mismatched gaze flickered over to him in interest. From his build, he could see a truth in the man’s statement. He seemed to be built for the climate, with tough muscle for insulation and large paws for the snowy months. An approving nod bobbed the Russian’s head and he rose himself to a sitting position. Off in the distance, the scent of borders once again floated to him matching that of Craw’s pelt and he was suddenly curious of the place that his new found acquaintance held. If he were any of the wolf Sif thought he might be, there was only one plausible one.
“Are you interested in staying?” he asked and a grin placed itself on his lips. “Perhaps. But, questions first. You are leader, yes? Strong, like bison, obvious to me,” he commented, wanting to verify his suspicions. “What pack stand for? What pack mean to you,” he would not be cowed into a pack that would end up just like his last one. No, he was smarter than that now, wiser than that. To others it might seem like he had no right to be picky as a loner, but Sif did quite well for himself out on his own. He could wait, scout others. He liked Craw, sure, but if they didn’t suit Sif then he’d be on his way without a second thought. He had no loyalties, he had a fresh start and he was going to start it right.