The stranger finally spoke. Kershov tilted his head at the hoarse quality of the other brute’s voice; it sounded as if he had never used his vocal cords in his life—or perhaps had overused them, voice spent on nights of screaming. The King’s guard flared up, suspicions on high as he continued to study the possible recruit. This pallid soldier wasn’t all there. Something was different. Something was wrong. It only took seconds for Kershov to figure out what that wrong thing was.

“You’re a reckless one, aren’t you?” Ker chuckled darkly, lifting a forepaw as if to indicate how crazy Mudo actually was. His kingly teeth glittered in a full smile. “You show up at my border, wanting to join, and then you suggest that you are capable of single-handedly murdering my soldiers. That’s rather silly.” Kershov folded himself into seated position, tail nonchalantly stirring in the grass behind him; the Regal appeared utterly at ease and not at all concerned with what Mudo had just told him. In fact, the white warrior perked his ears higher, as if eager to hear what other foolish thing the scarred mutt would have to say next. “I would like to see how talented you are at backpedaling. Let’s say you’re really as dangerous as you think you are: why on earth should I allow you anywhere near the wolves of my pack? On the other paw, what if you’re just one of those insane curs that fancies himself stronger than anybody else for no reason? Well, then, I may as well drive you off now before your rabid pelt infects the rest of this land. That would save us some heartache, don’t you think?”

Kershov scanned over Mudo again, this time completely ignoring the male’s steely blue eyes in favor of studying his subtle hints of body language. Mudo was tense, very tense, shoulders rigid and muscles knotted like coiled snakes beneath his skin—a perfect pose if he intended to strike. Ker wondered if Mudo actually would attempt to attack. That would be ever so inconvenient. The moon-white Monarch preferred to not get injured when it was unnecessary, and though he enjoyed a brawl as much as the next brute, Mudo simply wasn’t worth his time. Besides—if the sky-eyed snake were in fact rabid, Kershov would be placed in a truly dark situation indeed. Better to avoid bloodshed at all costs.

“So you have delusions of grandeur. That’s nice. If you can provide a good reason for you crossing this border alive, now is the perfect time to do so.”