This female was not the sweet or simpering sort of wolf that some tended to be. Not that he had expected it from her, what with the way she had stepped over her meal with fangs and snarls upon his arrival. Astrid was a fighter. That was clear. She was also very fetching with her shaggy white fur and distinctive eye marking. Her demeanor, however, was not fetching at all. She was snippy and coarse like a berry thicket with thorns. One might wish to taste from those bushes but find that in doing so they become bloodied and shredded before the first taste ever reaches their lips.
Zaphkiel cannot help the smirk that responds to her sneer, his ears flicking about to catch the sounds of the forest but his eyes - or his eye - focused solely upon Astrid. "Your sarcasm does not become you," he states. Part of that is his unfettered truth, a side-effect of having Azrael as his father, yet another part of him does it because he wishes to see how riled up that comment might make her. Oh he expected the comments like 'I don't care' or 'I wasn't trying to impress you, asshole.' At least he could say that Astrid was not boring even if they had only just met. He could bet there were many layers to her that once peeled back would reveal something spectacular.
Where Zaphkiel is prone to boastful comments about himself Astrid's own inclination of her skills is far more down to earth. How very pragmatic of her though it did lend an air of inscrutability to her - the more one professes to tell about themselves, the more that is still kept hidden. His mind slowly begins to turn from dissecting the girl before him to more important matters at hand. Food. Fall made for a very fun time for hunting. The deer were so preoccupied with mating that they didn't pay as much attention as they should.
"Well Astrid, we happen to be in luck. There is a stream nearby that waters some of the sweetest grasses. I'll bet we will find our quarry there fighting over some damsel or rutting like heathens." Zaphkiel grins broadly now, his eyes focused on her to gauge her reaction to his somewhat perverse statement before lifting his tail and stepping to the side. "If you shall accompany me, Lady Astrid," he says, his flair for the dramatic once more taking the lead. Zaphkiel turns to the south, glancing at her to make sure she would follow, before he leads the way on his silent paws. They are rather close so he decides not to bother her with speech lest they scare away their prey.
His pace slows to a slink as they grow closer and the sounds of grunts, bleats, and shuffling hooves can be heard. With each step closer Zaphkiel's body crouches lower to the ground until he is partially hidden behind a tree and large roots that have escaped the confines of the earth. There are about seven deer in a small clearing next to the stream. Five does munch on the grasses, a few lifting their heads to check on the two males that eye each other in challenge. So far it has not resulted in a free for all fight. Closest to where he and Astrid, if she has followed him and not taken off to circle around, is a rather large doe, her belly already swelling with babe.
He turns his head to the side to look at Astrid, for if she is on his left side then he cannot see her with that blind eye. His eyebrows jerk upwards and a small grin creeps across his maw. It is clear that he will let her choose which they should get and lead the way.