If only she knew his thoughts, how well he had pinpointed her character almost to a ‘t’. Literal to a fault she tended toward offending others, mostly by accident though there was the purposeful use of poisonous words on occasion. She tried not to make a habit of it. His comment brings her a moment of pause, the hard light of truth shining on those words with a clarity she could appreciate. However she merely shrugs it off with a fluid roll of her broad shoulders, convincing herself that his opinion didn’t matter much. She could judge him as well, the slightly haughty way he carried himself accompanied by an underlying current of power and a twinge of something darker. His steps were sure and there was a dangerous glint in his eye that promised something more, something perhaps she could come to appreciate.

Regardless he offered her the chance for a better meal and a bit of a fight which was all she could truly hope for. Her thick ears prick forward as her name catches in his throat, paying sharp attention to the whereabouts of said prey and the flair with which he chose to describe it. He went beyond simply stating where to find them, instead relaying their distracted ways this time of year again with finesse that most others would have simply glanced over. She let a sly smile creep across her features at the image. He could be interesting at least. She could sense his waiting on her to say something, react in some disgusted manner at his words; it was all to get a rise out of her. She could comply, somewhat… “Women oft drive men to such lofty heights that they are increasingly prone to falling even harder.” There. Let him chew on that a while.

Head and tail high she steps over the carcass of the half-eaten raccoon, the crows already circling overhead waiting for her to depart.. It seemed she would make some other scavenger’s day, yet that was the way of the world so all could take part and the circle might continue. She fell into step slightly behind her dark companion, growling quietly, “I am no lady,” simply to be stubborn to his continued penchant for the dramatic whether he heard her or not didn’t matter.

Her nose picks up the heady scent of deer in heat long before they get close enough to spot anything, next her thick ears picking up the familiar sounds of the rut as they near the grounds. Instinctively her body lowers, pads falling almost silently on the cool forest floor as she follows her guide to a well-placed spot for taking in the herd and best possible way of proceeding. They are in close quarters here, their breath heating the small space as her large form is hard pressed not to collide with this, the longer guard hairs of her coat still reaching out as if to try. Between the roots she note the small herd gathered, the tension between the two rutting males and the does simply watching as if they couldn’t care about the outcome. Quietly she snorts to herself in derision, unable to understand these grazers who so simply accept the fate males might decide for them. Choice was a gift the she-wolves took for themselves, one of the things that separated them from the lesser beings.

She pushes the thoughts away, no place for them here as the thrill of the hunt begins to course through her heavy body, knowing that she must make the most of the first seconds. Surprise would be their ally and a quick take down necessary as she couldn’t hope to keep up long after a chase started. It is acceptance of her limitations and the ability to play to her strengths that allows a grim smile to cross her face, the tips of yellowed teeth showing around black lips in anticipation. Her two-toned eyes flit to Zaphkiel, noting how he turns his entire head to look at her, an odd way to act given their situation but she would think on that later. His intent is clear: she shall make the first move and her gaze returns to their awaiting prey. It was the cardinal rule of their kind, only take what you need to survive, there was no massacring done by wolves.

Nodding her head slight she zeroed in on the doe closest to them, her enlarged stomach indicating that she is heavy with fawn and thus far less likely to be moving quickly as well. She lets out a soft growl before backing out of the roots, dropping into a silent trot to circle around to the other side of the doe. Her white form peeks out of the brush, looking briefly to Zaphkiel to make sure he sees her position before readying herself. Her muscles bunch together, thick limbs drawn close as she gains her balance, practically dancing on her large paws before she bursts forth from the cover like a bullet. She pays no heed to the other deer as they see her streaking form, already they are flying in the opposite direction; instead she heads directly for the aforementioned doe who has only just seen her herd retreating, too slow to realize why. Powerful limbs move beneath her and she flies with a grace that is oft belied by her size. She reaches her target quickly, hoping that by now Zaphkiel has found his way to her opposite side. She dives in, large jaws aiming for that ever-coveted jugular which would end this quickly however the doe has finally got her wits about her and begins to try to escape. Astrids teeth find the supple flesh at the top of her right foreleg, giving a hard pull in attempt to bring her down before dancing out of the way of those powerful hooves.