Not happy? Zaqar would not have gone that far to describe his present mood. Irritated, perhaps, but not unhappy. He stared for some moments at the pale girl who had voiced her opinion. She seemed…haughty. A haughtiness to rival his own, apparently. He could only imagine the thoughts running through her head that she would not voice; he could not blame her, as he knew he would have similar thoughts if a member of Glorall had taken him on a random trip to the freelands.

The oldest of the trio from the seaside pack spoke up, then, giving his name, and the black boy gave him an appreciative nod and a small smile. That’s better, he thought. Finally one of them was showing some sort of manners. Then the other, younger boy spoke up. He didn’t give his name, but at least some suggestions on activities. Zaqar was just slightly hesitant about telling them tales of Iromar, though he thought it couldn’t hurt. Certainly better than hunting. If one of them were to fall or become lost – the former being more likely – Andras would have his neck.

”Thank you, whatever your name is, for the suggestion. Sinclair, I quite agree that sharing stories of Iromar – and later you all can tell of Glorall – will create a better understanding.”

His voice had taken on a less sullen tone, something it had not expressed for a while. He felt the strain in his throat after speaking lowly for so long, but was determined to be a bit more light hearted.

”I agree that it is interesting that I was sent – yes, sent – to fetch you three, for I had heard little in our pack about relations with Glorall. Most wolves in Moladion tend to avoid us. They think us to be barbarians, but in fact it is only the Demons who live…unusually for wolves. I was raised a Demon, though much to my mother’s dismay I have not acquired the taste for certain rituals.”

He paused, not for suspense but to mull over how much he should readily tell them without asking questions. Making the decision that it was best left at that for the moment, he instead proceeded to describe the pack lands themselves.

”As for what it looks like, well, the swamp is sometimes a dismal place. It can be dark, and dangerous with the large scaly beasts that swim in our murky waters. Others and I often tire of the soft earth, which is why I spend much of my time here, where I can feel the firmness of rock and know that I stand on solid ground. However, there is beauty in the swamp as well. The trees grow straight out of the water, and when the sun reaches through their canopies in the mornings it highlights the fog and gives the whole place a surreal sort of feel.”

Here he stopped and watched his companions. They were beginning to grow on him, even the girl who had dared to assume how he was feeling. Perhaps he should have tried making friends much earlier in life. There’s a possibility it would have been easier than the start to this little excursion.

”What about Glorall? What’s it like living there?”

There was true interest in his eyes and tone now. Gone was the sullen, sulking youth who had perceived himself forced into a task that did not suit him. It seemed he had finally found something he was good enough at to do more frequently.