He turns to sniff her, and she takes this moment to return the favor. She smells previous death upon his jaws, tail whipping in irritation at the lack of leftovers to fill her belly. She knows still to follow him in these moments, and perhaps she will be rewarded with death to satisfy the raking claws of hunger that drove her so mad at times. His paws go forward, leading with an aura most dark, like a black hole she is drawn to him as he continues through the territory thick with scents...scents that could very well be her next meal. She is content to follow him in silence, her own paws like feathers against gentle grass as she continues on. She is one of grace and agility, lithe like an elegant viper twisted along roots. She follows and is accepted by the most feared wolf in this land that has no name. She is the fire that rips through the Prince of Shadows and Darkness. She burns and he consumes, he the fuel to her fire.

She understands why he pauses, her own nares lifting as she knows the wind does not carry scents dull, but scents fresh. She stands tall and alert, her own fire-brimmed eyes blazing forth upon the female of Iromar, her own hackles of blood and ash flaring as she lifts her fangs towards her - a warning. She will not accept another female to enthrall her male. She will not accept another female to be in his presence, to take him away or to feast upon his meals. He may command of her, but she named Flare, a name unknown, commands from others. Having spent little to no time with females, she does not know anything but instinct in this moment, knowing winter scents are thick in the air even if dispersing in time.

Her prickled fur barely collapses at the touch of the black one, moving with him as he goes, his command to ignore violated at the sound of the Iromar female's voice. She hears the sounds of her beast rumbling. Her own face, crazed with black eyeliner around her eyes, touched with wild streaks of black and red all around, follow him with muscles ready. She feeds off of the energy of the Master, as she always did with her master past, a master that has almost completely faded from her memories. The black male is the first she came upon in Moladion, and one who wore a veil of silence just as herself. Yet she knew not that the male chose silence, chose to not embrace words. Flare, never had such a choice, her world always one of growls, grunts, and wind. She is but an extension of the Master now, a flamed hellion of feminine grace and perfection, beauty and ferocity combined in a way once thought unimaginable. She stands behind and beside the black master as he commands the obedience of the other female, a thing she must respect and yet if the female goes out of line, she will surly pay.

Her own eyes of flame divert, her teeth still bared as she sets her blazed gaze on the younger one. Her tongue slips out of her mouth, licking her glittering teeth as she feels the hunger rippling inside of her gut. It is almost immediate when the Master calls upon her to chase. It almost always ended in a reward of a meal, when he beckoned and she responded. She rushes past the Master, her fur of coal and blood brushing against him as aggression seeped out of every pore of her body. She is quick, built to be fast like lightning striking the earth. Her face is one most terrifying, a face brutally honest and brutally fierce as she seeks to run to the side of the boy, our of snapping distance at first before her fangs snap out at his left hind leg, seeking to rip the tendon above the joint and render him disabled. She is careful though, using her speed to ensure she is not a sitting duck, if she does grasp on it be only a second of puncture before she would rip away once more in an attempt to fall back and find a new spot to attack, perhaps to distract him enough on his hind side so the Master can rip at his exposed neck. They were a team most formidable, most feared and if she fails to grasps a hold of him, let him be assured - he will not leave unscathed.