Perhaps there is more to her previous encounter than she expected. Sure, the female of fire and ice did not want to spend an exuberant amount of energy to fight over a snack, but part of her still wished to simply...win. To grasp the child in her jaws again and rip into her neck, to finish the job for good and consume her as she should. Perhaps, the flamed hellion was simply still hungry, and wanting to catch the weakened prey off guard when the white female wasn't looking.

Regardless, it has led the female to this place. She had followed them after waiting a good amount of time. The scent of blood was easy to track, and there was no way for the white female to hide it. Black nares flared as she inhaled the scent of metallic joy, licking her nose as she continued into the land becoming wet with mud and rot. It hardly looked different, the mud upon her fur, for she already looked naturally dirty. The white in her fur was naturally tainted with hairs of black and red, charcoal and grey ash. She looks charred and worn, with black eyeliner around her bloodied red eyes. She was not concerned with the mud of the land as she trudged through it. Her form was lithe, her limbs long and elegant yet it was how she wore them that gave her a foreboding sense.

She had followed the scent here, hours behind and it had become dark, so very dark. Yet the light was to come again, light that did not disturb her as it did her black prince. She was his eyes in the flare of light, but she was not with him in this moment when the sun began to crawl into the sky.

Or was she? As she stepped forward, pressing into Iromar with little regard for borders, she caught wind of him in which she follows. Her eyes divert, taking their devilish reds in the direction in which the scent originated. She is torn for a moment, frozen in time as her mind twists and contemplates. To follow the scent of blood, or to follow the scent of a Master? It was compelling, both drives, but she knew he might have killed. He might have left her food in which he did not need any longer. She is trained in the mind to know this, and she goes where she may find food first.

She goes to him, while the world around them sleeps. Her form is quite like a careful cat as her bloody reds see the movement of shadow before her. He walks, ever forward and straight, only pausing once as she comes closer with increased speed. She knows he senses her, feels her presence from a far. There are others here though, their scents litter the place as her lips wiggle back in disgust and irritation. She wanted to kill that little pup, to destroy her and end the gargle in her stomach.

She snorts, coming up behind the black one and to the side. She does not touch, does not get too close and her footsteps become deliberate so he is aware that it is she who comes, not a enemy. Her nose reaches out, sniffs him eagerly to smell that he did indeed have a kill tonight, a kill that is not near. She whines softly, ending in a garbled growl before her head snaps upwards, looking about the bog and swamp. She stopped in place, flame and coal hackles raising as it became more apparent that this land was thickly inhabited by many wolves. Her stomach growled, yelling out and yet she could not risk sticking her head into a den and alerting the others. Irritated, she makes a gruffy noise, her paws going forward once more. For now, she will follow her master, knowing his jaws might lead her to a more filled belly.