Silly boy. Must we worry about our looks? Sadly when you are as disfigured as this fatal female before you, appearances are hardly a thing to think about. Let’s think back to appearances can be deceiving, shall we? Although she was a female she was anything but feminine. With an ugly mug like hers she had to grow up accepting that she wouldn’t be a pretty thing to look at. As a young pup she discovered that having a messed up face made others look at her in horror and awe. Using those emotions to her advantage she figured out just what she could become in this whole wide world. Looking menacing at such a young age she was used to others staying far from her, the jagged scar that etched along her facade was a screaming beacon, warning others to stay away from her. Whatever small ounce of kindness that was lost within that heart of hers, it had slowly been stomped away over years of neglect. Sure, when she was a young pup she tried be cute and charming, hoping someone would overlook her scars, but she wasn’t perfect and so she wasn’t wanted. Pretty hard for a puppy to deal with making it on her own in this big wide scary world. Forgive her, but she is quite content having a sloppy dirty mangy coat, keeps herself well hidden from others. Well, it could have, but her black fur littered with swamp gunk and leaves did not make a decent camouflage while being perched on a grey pattern rock formation.

While her crimson coated muzzle was deep in the breast of the dirty fowl, she couldn’t help but snort as the males figure shifted slightly in case he needed to make a quick getaway. Please. Like she had any real interest to leap from the rock and sink her fangs into his throat. She had little reason to and as long as he continued to not show himself as a threat then there would be no reason for her to act violently. After all, she already had something dead between her paws. She was satisfied. Although really, the taste of this bird wasn’t all that great, but it was better than nothing. Half torn ear would twitch back and forth as she heard the strained voice of the meal speak his reasoning and she brought her muzzle up slowly. One long pink tongue poked out to clean the side of her muzzle as she stared at him for a moment, her own cold carrying a steady tone.

“Some wolves like to be a secluded place.”

Ebony dial tilted downwards as she stuffed her muzzle once more into the bird searching for any other tasty morsel. Sadly there was none left. Sighing she shook her head and slowly opened her jaw and picked up what was left of the bird’s carcass and threw it off her rock into the greedy swamp. A hissing gurgling sound reached her ears as the murky swamp began to eat the left over pickings of the bird. Obsidian agile form would shift slightly on the rock as she tried to make herself comfortable once more on her small little post. Twain colored eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed his blue-silver eyes locking on her own. For a moment there was comfortable silence. With a flick of her banner she slowly got up on all fours bringing her front legs forward and lowering the lower half of her body as she stretched, enjoying the slight tug in her muscles along her back. As she shook her frame, pieces of swamp gunk and leaves would fall off, before she leapt off the rock closer to the yearling. Eyeing him carefully she would walk past him, with a slight head tilt in the head giving permission should he want to accompany her.

“So, I’d take you are more familiar with this area, evidence of your coat being in pristine condition?”

Appearances. They tell a lot about you. Come on, try to figure her out, it’ll be fun!