It seemed to Ferox that every word spoken by the dark female before him intrigued him further. She was unlike any wolf he had ever met before and, although he did view her with some contempt and disdain, he also fed off the aura of mystery about her, enjoying the games she played. She regarded him with disdain of her own when he warned her about pack markers. He had been perfectly aware that she made her kill on the opposite sides of the border but, had another found her reeking of blood and Diveen, she may not have gotten off so lightly. He simply lifted his lip at her in a silent snarl, showing a single tooth. Ferox may not have wished to attack the stranger, but he was no pushover either and duty was duty. She ignored this show of prowess astutely, replying to his earlier words so that he had to grin, amusement rampant on his features. So, the raven-hued female did not grasp the concept of sarcasm.

“Sic ego audio.”
(So I hear)

He spoke without rushing, simply knowledge her grasp of the Latin language. It seemed almost like sacrilege, hearing the familiar, lilting lyrics pour from the mouth of one less than Angel, but Ferox allowed the affront to pass unchallenged. Instead he watched her as she scoffed at his question, and he was momentarily offended, but she repaired the damage she had unwittingly caused him by speaking of his father, a sardonic sort of humor aglow in her gaze. His reply was sharp and true, although he spoke a little guiltily, for his loyalty to his sire was strong, “There are not many of whom Heyel would approve. That does not stop his bairns and grandbairns from coupling with whomever they want though. Heyel is wise and great, a legend in his own right. But, even among the Angels, there is regular, family-related dissent.”

He could not understand why he spoke so freely to the black wolf, but something about her made him trust her. She did not seem one who fed on idle gossip and chit-chat, and he decided that she wasn't likely to spew such tales to the whole of Moladion very readily. He watched her steadily, picking up every subtle movement on her part. His lilac orbs caressed her rather hideous scars and twisted features but, instead of the revulsion he had expected to feel, he was almost drawn to her strange appearance. He realized then that she was a breath of fresh air, for he had grown bored of unmarred perfection. It was almost refreshing to look upon one who bore no resemblance to his rather enormous list of relations. Her voice barely pierced his reverie and, only after he had finished brooding and begin speaking did he reawaken to her presence. Grey-tipped ears plastered to the svelte skull of the girl as though what she heard was ingratiating to her, and Ferox raised his banner slightly, narrowing his eyes. She did politely wait for him to conclude his story, although the drawl that spilled from her after he had spoken was almost enough to rouse him to action. Instead of chasing her out of his sight, though, he gave himself a second to cool down and ponder on her words. They were not untrue but merely misguided. When he chose to finally reply, his sluggish tone matched hers, but there was a dangerous seriousness to it that she would do well not to ignore, “I hide behind nothing. I have earned the badge of pride, as every other Angel of Diveen has. Not a single wolf among us sits idly by while the others work and takes credit for it, no, we have each done more than enough to single us out as a whole. So what, in your so highly valued opinion, are we lacking, stranger without a name?”

His good-nature and teasing humor had faded, and he found himself suddenly prickling with irritation. That so poor a creature could make such outrageous and ill-backed claims against him was no less than absurd. His look turned derisive but she did not linger long enough to see it. Instead, she turned her back on him to begin her meal afresh. He tilted his head speculatively, straining to catch her softly spoken words. His own poured forth on the back of a rattling growl, “Perhaps I should be, that my reputation is so silent so as to allow a lowly outlander the freedom to turn her back on me. Still, be that as it may, what could it be that disappoints you so, queen?”

His lyrics turned mocking and he began to pace, frustrated. He really had much still to do, and yet he did not wish to leave this other just yet. He still felt, however misplaced the feeling might have been, that she had something important yet to say. Shaking his great head he let his irritation pass from his paws and stilled once more, waiting for the wraith to speak again.