The cowboy was ready to get out of the pack lands on his trip with Dixie-May. It would be like old times -- just the two of them, wandering aimlessly over mountains and through forests and across beaches. Of course, their ultimate goal was to retrieve some animals such as sheep or pigs for the pack's livestock, but that was nothing compared to the joy of being with her again. If Wayne could look dreamy, he likely was, smiling aimlessly as he looked at the petals scattered across the path from the trees. For once, he was patrolling on his own two legs rather than riding a horse, but Fern was recovering from her incident.

Even those thoughts could not cloud his mind for long; the gruff man was in a rare good mood. He was roused from his daydreaming by a howl at the borders, but this was a process he had gone through several times before, and he casually altered his stride with a doggish howl thrown out so the newcomer knew that someone was coming to attend to them. With more and more members joining the pack every day, he felt good about Casa di Cavalieri's future. The livestock would help feed and clothe them, the mares would foal soon, and there would be more helping hands for the barn and other projects going on during these warm months.

He scented the horse before the luperci, and that's where his eyes landed when he ambled into view. His smile never died as he appraised the large draft mare, a giant suited to the giants of the pack warriors. In comparison, the stranger looked dainty -- although she was bigger than Dixie, and really average-sized. He was too used to others towering over his substantial height.

Howdy, Wayne greeted customarily, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and looking at her. What brings ya to Casa di Cavalieri's borders? Unable to help himself, he added, And what's this big beauty's name? The Cavallo grinned sheepishly, although it was obvious from his own horsy scent how fond he was of working with the creatures.

The chocolate-colored woman grinned at his approach, and Wayne could only figure that she’d liked something about him or perhaps even just the prospect of someone greeting her. It was amazing how many new recruits they’d gotten lately; word of the warrior pack had spread far and wide, even if they hadn’t done anything substantial yet. Part of him hoped they wouldn’t have to rush into battle to keep the peace in the lands, but helping keep the peace by any means brought honor to who was once just a humble rancher from the south.

He was used to weird looks and head-tilts when he greeted others, as most canines here seemed to be from the north or even other continents. His southern drawl and dialect was a part of who he was, though, and dropping the habit would be impossible. He smiled, putting a hand on his old hat when a wind threatened to take it from his head.

The woman answered his question in stilted, accent English, which was far from what the cowboy had expected. He understood her, though, and when she offered that French was her native language, he nodded. There were plenty other foreign wolves within Casa di Cavalieri, and he knew for a fact that Ismeme spoke French, so there shouldn’t be much of a problem. His apprentice Adelle was learning English now as well.

After introducing the big mare as Dalia and a little marten as Elroy, she asked for his name. He obliged gladly. Wayne McCoy. He smiled thoughtfully then added, Il ya de nombreux guerriers ici. His accent all but mangled the French statement, and the words came very slowly, but he was pleased to know he’d remembered his mother’s lessons. It wasn’t much, but it might make communicating with the woman easy enough, and he understood very basic French better than he spoke it.

Quels…talents…avez-vous pour nous? Wayne asked next, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he clearly struggled. Like… Chasse. Lutter. Guérison. He gestured awkwardly and grinned helplessly at her. We’d like t’ welcome ya, if you have skills to help the pack, he said in English this time, shrugging. He looked fondly at the horse again.

And then he remembered she hadn’t introduced herself, only her companions, and flashed her a little smirk. Comment t’appelles tu? the mongrel asked more smoothly.

Wayne smiled faintly as she asked him where he'd learned he language. Ma mère parlait un peu, he explained. Et en espagnol. He was surprised that he could say as much as he was, honestly, since it'd been so long ago. He'd always been shy about practicing the language, since his accent was horrendous, but the woman before him seemed to be able to understand. She wasn't snickering or anything, either, so he decided he'd continue for as long as he was able to.

The wolf hybrid spoke slowly and neatly for the man, who nodded. Low speech was something he had never bothered to learn, which was strange considering how often he was around his horses. Certainly, he knew their moods better than most in the pack, and he was fine with the slightly more limited communication they had. They understood his reins and legs when he rode them, and they understood a soothing word, while he knew if they were upset or grumpy or pleased. Some might consider using a prey animal's tongue to lure them closer as a dirty trick, but he saw it as no different than calling livestock to slaughter. Maybe not pleasant, but a hell of a lot easier than hunting, especially in tough times.

He smirked when she mentioned her ability with blades, flourishing them briefly to prove her words. Many here are. It seemed that everyone had some weapon or another that they fancied using, and it reminded him that he was no warrior compared to the others in the pack. All he had were muscles from riding and the instinct of his ancestors to hold his own in a scuffle, something he was not looking forward to again.

Her smile was perhaps a little open and warm for someone he'd just met, but he wrote it off as eagerness, his mood too high to contemplate anything else. He'd been stormy lately, as a matter of fact, so she was lucky that he was smiling and making an effort to speak her language with her rather than sitting gruffly atop a horse like normal.

Well then, Adriana Delacruz... Wayne sank his hands into his pockets once again and grinned, standing aside so she could cross the border into the territory. Bienvenue à Casa di Cavalieri.

Adriana smiled broadly when she was officially welcomed into the pack, and it warmed the dusty-furred man’s heart. His ears perked at her request, and although he looked surprised, he answered swiftly. Yes, of course. He knew that he’d seen one or two of the pack horses foraging not far from the borders, and it would be as easy as calling them if he could. Riding through the territory would be refreshing and helpful to the newcomer, although he knew it’d be hard to ride through the courthouse that the pack made their home.

Tout d’abord, Wayne added for her benefit, je dois appeler un cheval. He motioned for her to keep walking in the meantime, as he headed further into the territory and kept his nose up for the smell of the Casa herd. ls ne vivent pas dans une étable, mais libre. He had no doubt a few stalls might be built for them with the new construction, but they enjoyed being free-range to his knowledge. The only problem was that it took a hell of a lot of time out of his day to track them all down.

Teeth at his shoulder made him wrench around, and Wayne chuckled lightly. The woman spoke to the horse, and he decided that the situation was under control before sniffing again and letting out a bark. Before too long a light bay horse came through the smattering of trees, and the cowboy stroked his nose gently in greeting.

Buckeye, he introduced to Adriana. Partagé par la meute. He didn’t know how else to explain about the communal horse in French, but it didn’t matter. He mounted the stallion, which sniffed curiously in Dalia’s direction, and turned his head back toward the fort. At least showing her how to get to where most of the pack lived would be helpful; he’d go into detail if she asked questions about the different places within Casa territory.