Maverick is within Moladion and yet outside of it still. As much as he physically inhabited the space he was no part of its inner workings or the drama that might play out time to time. He was too old to get involved in petty squabbles and underhanded dealing. His long life had granted him witness to the rise and fall of many a ruler, and they all seemed to follow the same patterns which had grown rather boring to the time-trodden soldier. His only goal left to find what had happened to Pine after her disappearance from Iromar, and even then he was not sure he needed to get involved. Yet somehow he had been pulled into whatever it is that was going on, drug to the outskirts of a different pack though not far from the one he had previously called home.

His brilliant eyes shift from the dark form of his would-be captor to the approaching figure who could only be the one she had summoned. He neared soon enough to hear his questioning of why exactly such a conversation had need to take place here, when questions could have been asked just as easily at the hermit’s own den. Then again were they there he might not have felt so inclined to speak to them at all… not that the trek had made him feel any more loquacious but it had served to irritate him which had a manner of at least eliciting harsher words instead of none at all. “Do you not think I’m capable of finding a change of scenery myself if I desired it? I’m old, as your girl here so deftly pointed out, not blind.” His gravelly voice rumbled out from his chest, his weight shifting against his hips as if they ached from the position. “Old loners are old loners for the reason that we like to be just that, alone.” He scoffed as if it shouldn’t have been that hard to figure out, and yet here they were.

Time had made him realize the benefit of being alone, not having to worry about anyone else other than himself. Pine had interfered in that for a short time but even she was able to take care of herself and would have little need of a grumpy father figure lurking around attempting to eat her… what did she call him? Imprint. Soulmate. He had scoffed at the idea the first time she mentioned it and continued to do so. That was the last thing he needed, someone running around him claiming to be bound to his soul. What was left of it was tattered pieces anyway, a soldier didn’t have much room for a soul. Focusing his yellow-green eyes back on his abductors he grumbled at the pale wolf’s question. “In plain sight it would seem. I make no attempts to be a shadow and yet somehow become one.” A less than straight forward answer than they might have been looking for, but then again they should learn to ask straighter questions.