It had never been more difficult, nor more important for the blue-black warrior to get his point across, his very future in Iromar depending on his ability to communicate without the aid of a voice. His only saving grace was the patience of his companion, and it was all he could do not to whuff his gratitude to her as she let him speak in his defence, caution clouding her gaze but not setting her jaws or paws in motion. She would make a fitting alpha for Iromar. He tried his utmost not to let self-pity or cloying anxiety creep into his pale eyes or his posture. He knew that neither of those emotions would garner him any respect.

When she spoke, it was with a great deal of thought, and a concern that was almost touching. Also, probably more amazing than anything else, it offered Kneph hope, when for so long hope and been something unobtainable for him. It offered him a way out, a way to not only rid himself of his torturers, but also to again master the power of voice which had alluded him. His tail raised and his ears pricked, every muscle and inch of his being focused on Aithne and the future she allowed him to, for the first time, take as a possible outcome. The female must know that she had surely won Kneph's adoration and loyalty in those few sentences. With vigour afresh, he set about making hum understood for the umpteenth time that day, ignoring the unsettled feeling in his belly that was the alligator meat chiding him for moving around so much, “Thanks. I Thanks. How can I fully thanks? Perhaps some. I am weak. Drudge and Nox make me weak. I never hurt. If I hurt, you kill. I have tongue with ghosts yes. Please, help. I want gone. I want whole again.”

He 'spoke' slowly and haltingly, giving her time to catch on to what he was saying while his anticipation built within his chest. He returned her smile with a broad grin of his own, accepting her offer of peace and reflecting it. Too long had it been since Kneph had called any wolf of flesh and blood friend. They either ran from him, or did not have the patience to try an understand his manner of speaking for long. He was a warrior, not a sorry soft-foot in need of an attitude adjustment but, even the sturdiest of patriarchs had need of a confidant, and Aithne was the closest thing he had to one. True, she probably still held a degree of wariness towards him, but the responsibility of leading a pack pulled heavily on her shoulders, and he could tell just by observing her that she struggled beneath its weight, despite being convinced that she deserved the title.