It would be nice to have another member to the swamps that would be worthy of the cause. There were few here, she knew, but those few made up quite nicely for the lack of wolves. She could count on them at all times to help man the border and protect the inhabitants. In truth the moors had become a productive society. Andras had disappeared a few days ago and she had yet to see hide nor hair of him which alarmed her more than she would say; whatever he was getting into was undoubtedly no good. She feared that things would escalate and she would be forced to reprimand the wolf that was once King of the marshes, for despite his past, the bog was hers now. Hers alone. Aithne was protective over it and had indeed grown quite possessive over the kingdom, aggressive at the idea of one coming to take it from her.

Her lips turn into a smirk at his own chuckle, amusement twinkling in her emerald eyes even as she watches him in quiet assessment, always evaluating. "Another time then," she answers calmly. A hunt would soon be upon them - it was time to teach the fresh blood of Iromar what it was to taste the rubbery flesh of the alligators. To dominate the reptilian overlords; to re-write the food chain once more. Her and Kneph had managed to take down an alligator before but with a whole pack? They could kill and ancient and feast on the knowledge it's flesh had to offer.

There is approval on her face when he accepts her offer. Once here it should not be too difficult to draw him in permanently, she thinks, for this was the second time he had come and clearly he had some sway for the moors. It was not an overly beautiful place like the fields of Asteraia or the cliffs of Diveen yet Aithne found that it did not lack beauty in it's own way. Others just did not take the time to see it. She blinks at him in surprise at his mention of children and tilts her head to the side curiously, wondering what this girl of Spirane could have done to offend or otherwise unnerve him, but then again some wolves simply weren't used to children. Her, for example. "We have only two yearlings here at the moment and no younger. They will be put into ranks according to what they wish to learn but they will have to prove themselves over time before they can own a distinguished title. All must earn their place, Iscariot. Children are not born with the knowledge or skill of their parents, although some might have innate talent. But if you question is do we have many children, then the answer is no. They are... important to the pack to grow yet I will admit I am at a loss as to what to do with a pup myself." Now she shares a conspiratorial smile at him.

"Come," she says, standing suddenly. "Take a look at the moors, meet some of my wolves. We are not many but we are strong and we are worthy. Maybe, in time, you can become apart of us as well," she says with a sly glance at him as she lifts the beaver into her jaw and turns, pausing to see if he will come with her. He was welcome to explore on his own but if he wished more questions then he would have to walk with her a ways.