Comparably, Max was not half-so young as many of the other members. He had been when he had arrived, but between two births and one kidnapping, there were many who were yet younger than he was. This pleased him greatly, for now he was able to feel as if there were those that needed his protection rather than the other way around. With his size alone he was able to look intimidating, but his training and natural aggression allowed for him to have the confidence of a boy-turning-man that sought to find his place amongst the clan.
The woman spoke of their lack of common blood, and while this pleased Max in one way, he felt bad about it in another. Without a true blood tie he had no bond here beyond his word. That, of course, would not be broken. Too many other faces had come and gone for him to think of abandoning the clan. A doggish and instinctive loyalty demanded such a thing, though it wavered between Ezekiel and Inferni itself.
He was thrilled with the concept presented, and wagged his half-curled tail to show it. The girl gave her name and bloodline, though Max only recalled one of those names. Both of his large, coyote ears swiveled at the noise of a stranger’s advance. It turned out to be Wraith’s brother—they were close enough in color and smell for this to be without a doubt. Yellow eyes gleamed as he smiled toothily and looked back to Myrika, the big woman. “The reindeer herd has been around here,” he suggested. “We could try for one of the big ones? There’s four of us, I think it wouldn’t be that hard.”
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