Really she shouldn't be surprised that some crazed male has come running at her call. Even from a distance she spies his charcoal body eagerly moving towards her. Since her 'situation' prior to coming to Moladion, she had developed a sense of distaste for males. Especially those with attitudes or entitlement issues. This world was too filled with such wolves it seemed. So far she had only encountered one wolf in her travelings once in Moladion. Admittedly he was handsome but his attitude seemed to fit in just as well with those left behind. Maybe not as bad, but still. Back in her homeland females were, as Malikye thought, weak creatures. It took a strong soul to muster up the courage to fight back. She had been born with such a soul. She imagined her's was not the clear, innocent ephemeral soul that she pictured others but twisted with hues of red for her fury and black for her carelessness.

She was not a creature as some of these 'demons' were. Not that she knew anything about them yet but with the way Malikye was slobbering all over himself to get to her, she figured something was probably not right with his head. Even in her homeland the wolves, violent and erratic though they may be, did not feast upon the corpse of their kin. A wolf was a wolf whether they were weak, simple-minded creatures like her own mother. Not a meal. Not a viable option for nourishment.

If she had known what he was thinking in his comparisons of females to week she would have laughed - a choking, mocking laugh. Malikye seemed scraggly to her; she stood taller than him and weighed more too by the looks of it. Cannibalism didn't seem to offer him what proper eating would. There seems to be a sickness about him. If he wasn't acting like some rabid dog she might even have found him attractive, even with that scar across his cheek, but the moment grows closer to her both of her deep emerald eyes narrow, the ring of red on her right standing out against the harsh black of her fur.

This male smells rancid. Worse even than the swamps and his canines look a disgusting shade of yellow. What the hell was wrong with him? She had known some pups to be born twisted in the head. They usually did not survive very long. The pack was already bursting at the seams with little food, they could spare none on a creature not wise enough to help make a place for itself. Maybe someone hadn't culled him early enough. With each step drawing him ever closer to her - closer than what was appropriate, in her mind - her body tenses and her ears fall back.

Malikye does not strike her as an alpha. The scent that twines beneath that of the swamp does not match his own nasty one; he is not a leader. She will not bow to him. His threatening manner causes her own hackles to raise and her tail lifts, dominant. Does he think attacking her will be easy? She has a good twenty pounds on him although his insanity might make up for that fact. No, Aithne will be no easy meal, nor a meek one at that. So as his growl echoes through the swamps her ears pin back and her lips twitch into her own snarl; her legs shift so that she is balanced perfectly in the event that he will assault her. Does she need to add another scar to his face?

This is an intense moment. She does not care to speak to him. Should she threaten him with words it is likely to stir a fight between them (except he was the one growling at her to start with!), and she will not take any bullshit. What will the mighty charcoal boy do?




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