Rhyke was relieved to find the guards were not going to give him grief fresh off the boat, however that almost changed as they called Ciss a mutt. There were very few human words she could pick up on without a tone of voice, mutt was one of them. She held back her growl, though only as long as she had too. As soon as they were on their way she loosed her growl. “I’ll show him mutt- and that tin he is wearing won’t save him.” She spoke to Rhyke over their bond, conveying a feeling of annoyance and slight anger. “There is no need to prove anything to these people. They will not understand us. Remember what you have learned.” He shot back with a soothing feel.


Rhyke made his way to the crusty anchor. If Ciss could not fit through the door or was forbidden from entry, he would take note of an open window to find a seat near so that he could keep an eye on Ciss. Dire wolves were very easy to provoke, and Ciss was a little fire head. Rhyke never let her stray far unless they were in a forest well away from any towns.


Rhyke would make his way into the Tavern, looking about as his paranoia started to gnaw at him.