He was inwardly pleased that she stayed quiet, and not in a sense that he wanted her not to speak. More so, he was glad that she was learning. After all, his family were greatly misunderstood. Many in Moladion saw their ambitions as foolish, and yet they did not truly understand. They weren't here to just kill, they were here to perform population control on a family that's bloodline stretched even far from Moladion's core. They had purpose, and just like those cultures that others smiled upon, they too wanted to be understood and learned from. Silence meant she was learning - learning to hold her own. Often most, he would have felt confronted but... he needed a strong woman. Maybe she wasn't quite there yet but she was learning.

He followed slowly behind her as she circled around the isle, observing her closely as she encountered his trophies. For a moment, she seemed to muse over them and he narrowed his eyes slightly, awaiting to see if she had any doubts about it. After all, some strange wolves were seemingly disgusted by the tradition. He could not understand why. She seemed to move on and he continued to follow, waiting outside as she disappeared into the innards of the den. He waited, still puffed up proudly, amazed by his own skills in those moments. It seemed she liked it, and that was soon confirmed when she spoke, his ears eagerly flickering forward.

He beamed, though he attempted to suppress it somewhat. Though no words left him, he felt his tail thump lazily behind him - just the once. He'd done good, though he already knew that inside. He just... needed confirmation. Content now that he had done all the preliminary pleasantries - the welcome pack, to say to say - he stretched his legs and flopped onto his belly, lazing in the hazy sunlight as he watched Denali, constantly curious. When she spoke again, his eyes locked onto hers and he nodded slowly, furrowing his brows.

"I will listen," he stated with another final nod, resting his broad skull atop his dinner-plate paws, "Then I tell you mine."