He loved the woods.

Dark and deep and cold, it was so easy to loose oneself in the tangle of trees. The demon stood slack-legged and bright-eyed, staring thoughtfully at the trees surrounding him. They were so still and cold, like corpses looming drunkenly overhead, back-lit by the moon's weepy glow.

Devlin breathed deep, the scent of other wolves sending a shudder through his lithe frame and setting his hackles on end. A grin like a grimace slithered over his face, wrinkled lips curling away to reveal perfectly pale, pointed teeth.

Someone was nearby -- of that, Devlin was certain. He was in no particular hurry to meet up with the stranger; a beast with Devlin's sense of smug self-confidence seldom needed to hurry anywhere. No, in Devlin's world, he was the center-pin around which the universe spun; he alone set the concept of time, and would do what he pleased when he pleased to do it.

After a moment, the beast shook his coat as if freeing himself from whatever thought had been slithering through his head. Devlin turned his eyes westward, and began moving with long, measured steps -- slowly, the beast made his way in the direction of the stranger he had detected not long before.

It wasn't long before Devlin found him, laid out on an old log as if he hadn't a care in the world. A sadistic grin found Devlin's lips, and the hellion gave his stiff tail a flick. He held his head low, but there was no mistaking the haughty, mocking flick of his gaze. He stood just out of the male's reach, staring wordlessly with those mis-matched eyes.

His rich, dark voice boomed from his chest, spoken as easily as if the two had been friends from birth.

"Enjoying the silence?"

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D E V L ! N