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Now he only faintly cut his eyes at the larger man, shaking his head enough that his nose tilted from side to side. He’s the kind of wolf you don’t let tag along during a hunt. Because it was inevitable that he’d get someone killed, and that SOMEONE would almost certainly not be their meal. The blubbery fellow did get a chuckle out of imagining him winding up thrashed and near-drowned by an Orca. Oh, how he would miss such a taste.

Mojave adamantly denied the idea of Amorak having been fond of him, and while there was a suspicious glint in his gaze he didn’t push it. Didn’t matter now, if he was dead. And it doubly didn’t matter if they weren’t on Ferinine anymore.

Straightening his lip and forcing a thoughtful expression, Rancor worried where they could have been if not. Surely, there’d have to be some locals around to explain it to them. Peering over at the broad-eared wolf below him, he felt his eyelids narrow. At the very least, Rancor would figure it out. Maybe not that idiot.

Once again returning to the concept of the undead, he allowed himself to ponder the thought without completely denying it again. He might never believe him about it, but it wasn’t like he’d been there all the time. Perhaps, there was some kind of reality where nonsensical things happened all the time. It’s like a beluga whale, which is like a white flat-faced dolphin, with a horn on its head. Not that he had much faith in Mojave knowing what those were, either. How many land-living wolves had even seen a whale? A tuna? Sighing, Rancor made sure to clarify. I won’t doubt you on it. You saw what you saw. I just didn’t see it. But if we can end up.. Here, when I could have sworn we were just on a beach, then anything’s possible. And that would be that.