------It didn't take too long for a wolf to respond to his call. Immediately Anselm began to look the stranger over, although he avoided eye contact and made it appear strictly casual. A quick glance was all he needed--the guy seemed a bit winded, and for a fleeting instant he felt guilty about yanking this guy's chain. He had ran all the way here, just for him? What a waste--well, not for Anselm. Immediately he was offered more information than he had before--the name of the pack. Shadowed Sun. Righto.
------"Quite the contrary," he assured the wolf. "I have lived in these lands for several moons already, but lately there has been an influx of wolves. I'm just trying to get to know my new neighbours better. Were you with the groups that emigrated from over the mountain?" he asked, tone innocent and neutral. After all, it was far from a total lie... or even a lie at all. He had always preferred lying by omission, of course. He also managed to wheedle in some information that he already knew--if somebody had told him that much, he was more likely to appear trustworthy. Maintaining his submissive posture, he took a brief moment to glance questioningly into the woods behind his new-found encyclopaedia of Shadowed Sun: Lubomir.
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