He is calm, this twilight, eyes of deadened emerald turned upon the field in which he has made his home as the setting sun begins to ease back behind the curtain of coming darkness that so heralds the beginning of his hunt, darkened form content within these final rays of light that bleed with piteous discord as they descend with clawed fingers behind the mountains and bath the earth in the darkness of his kingdom. Perhaps, were the creature capable of such a thing, he may well have smiled at the oncoming darkness, pleased at the promise of a meal and yet, such is the fractured confines of his mind that he is indeed left with little more then an ability to stare as he rests outside his den. She of Fire and Snow is gone away to hunt alone, the den is his own in these early hours and as such he reclines outside. Hunger has not yet taken him, not yet consumed his mind and as such he lingers within the repose of the coming dark, simply watching, though indeed if those deadened eyes are given to see it cannot be said, his mind is not as others, does not work as others. Thoughts do not exist beyond basic need and instinct, his mind free of any such things as he continues to stare unblinking across the fields.

His wounds have healed, the fangs of those of Iromar and Taviora leaving no more then pink scars and returning fur to cover such things, the males ability to heal so seemingly beyond the natural as he waits, though for what cannot be said, reptilian gaze turned upon the horizon before it is he is given to rise abruptly on silent dark limbs, to glide with soundless ease atop the plain, the darkened perfection that he is given to sweep like a blackened angel in search of the scent that has captured his attention and woven into the confines and fibres of his mind. His search is short and brief, the nightmares prize little more then a droplet of blood atop the earth and yet….the trail continues. It is not wolf, not the heated richness he seeks to feast upon yet nor will he turn from the taste of deer. Blood speaks of weakness and indeed the animal he seeks is wounded. He strides onward now, saliva pooling within his jaws at the promise of a meal, the trail of blood thickening with each step as he moves to draw close to his prey, leaking like a shadow across the earth to blend so perfectly within the darkness that he rules, drawing ever close to the wounded prey he seeks.