Tithe had become something of an enigma to Sleekwing over the past months. He had observed from afar the wellbeing of the pack he had been closed off from, and seen how Tithe worked to keep the pack on its feet in spite of its lackadaisical new leader. He had carried on with duties that had been put forth to him by Daenerys, only now he served faithfully to Roman – or so it seemed. Perhaps, in truth, it was just to the mountain that Tithe had served. And thus, when Roman’s absence became too much for the wolves of Spirane to bear, he had been the wolf they turned to. The wolf that lay before Sleekwing now was far different from the wolf he had first encountered during their hunt in the woods. It was strange to watch such a transformation before his very eyes, but the elder wolf was still not entirely sure of the result. Only time would tell.

Reclining onto his hindquarters, Sleekwing listened to what Tithe had come to speak to him about. He was forthright with the matter, and it came as little surprise to the once Castellan. He blinked down at Tithe, reflecting for only a moment before he answered.”For eleven years I have called this range home; I am the only wolf who remains from its original establishment. And all those years ago I made a promise, to protect the land and its people no matter what. It is not a promise that I made lightly, and I have always, and will always, keep it – so long as I am able bodied enough to do so. If you see fit to assign a title to that role, then I accept it.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement of such a thing, and for that, it seemed as if the business end of their conversation would come to an end.

Still, Tithe lingered, and Sleekwing watched him with interest. There always seemed to be something brewing just beneath the surface with this wolf, though he clearly put much effort into keeping such things hidden from those around him. And so Sleekwing waited, quietly watching the tiniest of shifts in Tithe’s expression until he took a deep breath and nonchalantly plunged into what, perhaps, he had really come here to speak about – pack matters perhaps a guise to segway into a more personal conversation. Sleekwing himself did not feel the need to shelter his reactions or emotions, and a smile lifted the corners of his maw. So, Tithe had met a young lady?

“It is a phenomenon as old as the soil of Moladion itself, a bond between wolves that exists only here, so far as my travels have shown me. My parents were imprints, and my mother’s parents before them.” He paused, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he thought of those who had come before him. “Imprinting, is, in the simplest of terms, the completion of one’s soul in another wolf.” He chuckled softly to himself, “Though I suppose that does not seem so simple, does it?” Shaking his head, looked to Tithe. “Malina is my imprint,” he added, perhaps as reassurance that not all imprints were in fact mates. He stopped there, though, allowing Tithe a moment to ask questions if he had them. For one who was not born in Moladion, it was probably perplexing situation to be thrown into. But Sleekwing couldn’t help but wonder, who was it that was the completion of Tithe’s own soul?