It seems Autumn is fast approaching, and soon after the chill of winter. We should really try to find some shelter to wait out the snowstorms and blizzards so common in this land. And in the next village I should probably trade some caribou and deer pelts for some decent armor, the bandits are getting more bold, bold enough to attack even an armed traveler and a pack of wolves for their pelts and any goods they have...

Even good, well forged armor won't save me from a well-placed dagger or a fast arrow, but it's not too common for Humans to be so proficient in Archery and assassination to catch me unawares after these last few centuries of life.

Now why would you attack a fellow fur, especially a fellow fur surrounded by those whom could be your kin?

I'll have you know we don't carry any food in my satchels, I merely have a flask of water and a few skins of fine wine I traded some pelts for in the last village. I am loathe to part with the wine as it is of my favorite vintage, and a good year as well, but if it will save unnecessary bloodshed we can work out a deal.

I would know your name first however, my good wolf. In a show of good will, I offer you my own name in exchange for yours. I am Kuja the son of the Land, as I have no father, and no mother, and no memory before that of being cuddled in the snow of winter by a pack of wolves. That was nearly six centuries ago, and yet I will continue my life debt to the pack so long as I yet breathe.