Kershov appreciated wolves that knew their place; he saw no shame in following wolven code and playing one's part. Far too many fools had wasted the King's time hoping to impress him by challenging his authority and refusing to submit, smirks on their faces and persuasive growls in their throats, as if they somehow carried the ability to scare Kershov into welcoming them. What did they think they were accomplishing by that act of reckless pride? Did they think Ker would respect their stubborn denial of simple pack customs? Honestly, few things impressed the ivory warrior more than a recruit who recognized etiquette and did as she was told with humility. As soon as the grey-dusted femme flattened her spine to the earth - nary a pale hair out of place - Kershov knew this girl was worth keeping.

"Rise, Winn Dixie. You've passed the first test with flying colors." The alabaster gangster spoke this line with his signature cold humor, voice chilled but not unfriendly as his fathomless eyes inspected the firm muscles of her abdomen. Intelligence and innocent inquisitiveness shimmered within Winn's glass-bright lanterns. Her gaze slid innocuously to his own. Kershov sensed that she was just as curious of him as he was of her. Perhaps . . . too curious. For a split second the polar dragon's hackles lifted - prompted by a sudden paranoia that Winn Dixie had noticed more about him than she should have - but then the steely feeling of being measured up vanished, and the pallid Alpha relaxed.

"You must have heard how this pack works if you've taken the time to travel here," Ker murmured smoothly, wanting to divert attention away from his previous discomfort. Winn exuded energy like a young pup, although the frost-born Pharaoh expected her nearly childlike enthusiasm was tempered with true adult self control. "Were you hoping to add a specific talent to our ranks, or was your purpose to discover your place along the way? Abendrot welcomes seasoned and green fighters alike, so long as you're not an insufferable imbecile." At that Kershov chuckled darkly, teetch flashing between the velvet curtains of his muzzle, showing Winn Dixie that he didn't think her one of those "imbeciles," yet making it clear that such behavior would never be tolerated if she ever forgot her role as subject.

"You won't make trouble for me, will you Winn Dixie?"