Arthfael did not seem wholly pleased by the extension of his assignment, to ensure that not only did Tychon stay but that he was looked after and kept in line as need be. Still, he shouldered the burden with dignity - even if his displeasure was palpable - and I nodded as he consented to the task. Blazing mahogany eyes turned then to Tychon as another snide comment dripped from his disfigured lips. While it was a fair enough question, I had let him get away with enough disrespect to last a decade. If he came to realize that his time spent in Spirane was not so much a sentencing and more of an extended hand in help, perhaps he would choose to stay - if of course he proved worthy of being welcomed permanently. But if he was to stay, such insolence would not be tolerated, and I would not part ways with him this day letting him think he could speak to me in whatever way he pleased.

My gaze bore into him, ears propped forward even as Arthfael sniped back at him about what he would be given during his stay. Almost as though he had not answered before me, however, I gave a direct reply to Tychon's question. My voice was harder, more severe than it had been before, a trace of what had been heard when the first word of my arrival had been spoken. "Winter is coming, and hunting on an atrophied leg is not so easy." It was a more clear acknowledgement of his weaknesses than I had initially wanted to give, but apparently he needed these things pointed out to him. "We have skilled healers who will see to it that your leg returns to at least fifty percent of its former use before you leave here - and if you are invited to stay, they will likely be able to help you restore full use of it." I stressed upon the word invited - just because he'd been brought here did not mean he would be welcome to stay when all was said and done.

I pivoted then, turning back to Arthfael as the foreboding look seemed to evaporate from my visage. My movement allowed free entry further into the pack lands. My snout dipped with finality, dismissing them to do as Arthfael deemed fit from this point. A meaningful look was exchanged with the white-backed son of my once-friend, one guarded from Tychon's gaze, that wished him well in his endeavors. In a weeks time we would see what the feisty lad's visit to the mountains would amount to. And then I turned, striking out in the opposite direction from the two young males, suddenly feeling the itch to run the borders.