warrant a name

[Jefferson Soul]

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wc457 Did he still wish to be a loner? He wasn't sure. In his mind he still was one, having failed to really develop some relationships in his pack thus far, other than that of an unusually unbiased friendship with Iskata. He still felt quite a bit estranged, standing as a stranger in a land full of apparent chaos and relations he'd never seen before, and it seemed Jefferson felt like the basic puzzle piece being fit into the wrong puzzle. He couldn't complain. Phoenix Valley was a good place for him, he decided--he wanted to avoid troublesome packmates and the like, and for the most part the pack was very easygoing and small (or as far as he knew). He had befriended but one of the leaders--the other two were either scarce to find or completely mistrusted his crossbred blood--and the few other faces he'd met thus far were not of his pack. For some reason, he found it hardly possible to count the immature Pendzez as a companion just yet, as the two seemed to derive of completely opposite backgrounds. Jefferson was the loner in his own pack, climbing the ranks without noticing but finding it necessary to still perform what 'duties' he had as of now, whether it be rooting out the foreign scents looming within packlands or seeing to patroling the borders. He was a bit lazy at it, yes, but Jefferson had never really partook in a 'duty' before. A shrug. The fact that she was a leader meant very little to him. Iskata could have easily vouched for the hybrid in that he 'censored himself for no one', be it a leader or a runt. Those breathing were all the same. "I didn't end up in the pack on purpose. I'd still be a loner otherwise." His eye averted, but not shamefully. The subject seemed of such little interest. "The pack's small and harmless. If someone attacked it, I doubt we'd be able to defend ourselves." He couldn't fight yet, but once he had some meat on his bones, he'd be back to his old legacy in no time, gimpy leg or no gimpy leg. "It's comfortable, having a place to go back to. I don't mind it--easier to eat when you can't hunt too well on your own." He was a pathetic soul, he knew. He only wished to be of more service to the pack, but what would a gimpy old crab do? "Hell if I'd ever end up in a position of power like that one, but there are plenty of changes that could be had. Though, the leaders have their own business to work at, it seems. No skin off my bones if the pack disbands at some point."

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