The obsidian scarred creature finds it highly amusing that he would dare to show off one single fang in a silent snarl. One pink tongue lazily wiped some of the blood that had stained her muzzle from her recent kill. She did not fear anything and if he really wanted to attack her she would be more than happy to shove him to the ground and stain the ground below their paws with his blood. She was a wolf that did not like to be trifled with. It was not pride that led her to believe she shouldn’t be messed with, but it was just a habit. Blame it on how she was raised. Isolated by others at such a young age, always having to fend for herself from every wolf or apex predator that crossed her path. It was not surprising to hear that not everyone followed everything the old white wolf said. It was actually an amazing thing to see a wolf actually endure life this long. She knew her own pathetic lonely life would end far much faster than his own. There was really no reason why she should continue on how she was, but she did it just in spite with Mother Nature. An old wolf wasn’t supposed to make it on their own for this long and yet here she was, scars and all, with some Diveen wolf ruining her appetite. A Diveen wolf that had yet to understand just why life disappointed her. Her half torn ear twitched when she picked up on his tone taking a dangerous slide and she went still for a moment, those intense violet eyes of hers locking on his lilac orbs. Once again she did not fear him nor bother to respond to his threat by backing down. Instead she remained still allow her gravelly voice to go softer, speaking slower this time so that he could truly take in her words – almost being…helpful.

“You speak of them, but I do not hear anything about you.. That is why I suggest you are hiding behind them. What is it that you have done…and not for them, not for your pack, but for yourself?”

Being part of a pack meant that everyone would be overshadowed by everyone. Take for example the current ruling class. During her time in Diveen she had been around when Isola gave birth to her last two pups. 12 siblings – there would be a lot of angst between one another underneath that undying love and loyalty to one another. Not to mention she had overheard a certain male wolf dusted with crimson speak of what he would do if he was King. Her presence wouldn’t have been allowed and it didn’t take long for Tick Tock to leave this pack knowing she didn’t belong, especially when that same wolf followed her every move like a hawk. There had to be some sort of reason why Ferfox lived, there had to be something he was proud of…of himself and not anyone else. Being in a pack blinded everyone from their own capabilities it was always ‘we’ and never an ‘I.’ Sometimes it was necessary to be selfish and do something for yourself for a change and it would seem that even though he hadn’t been in Diveen in a long time he was slowly immersing himself into the pack belief. As she returned to her meal she ignored his comment about not knowing her name finding it unimportant. Turning her back on him didn’t concern her at all. All she had to do was call for Isola, remind the Queen who she was and what she did and more importantly what he did that was so wrong. Did he really want to risk it? Settling herself down with her badger between her paws, she held her ebony skull in a regal manner at the mention of ‘Queen.’ Those cold violet eyes locked on his lilac orbs for a moment, her voice changed into such a domineering tone.

“Do not call me ‘Queen’ unless you mean it…there is power in a name.”

It is true – there is power in a name. There is a reason why every Mother or Father gives a name to their child during their first moment of breath. When her only child was born she had given her a strong name believing that night when she was visited by Deaths’ minion that her daughter should be given the same name. The mark in the middle of her daughters’ forehead matched her own and for brief moment there was grief in her eyes. Yet sadness was not allowed. Her daughter would have to endure the struggle until one day her meaning and reason to be alive showed itself. Her own Mother and Father did not give her name. No one gave her a name. She only went by what was familiar to her, the sound of a heart beat when a creature was slowly dying. She was marked to be a killer, just another minion for Death and the name she gave herself brought a sliver of meaning to her pathetic life. She never told a soul her name, her imprint and daughter did not know. No one needed to know. There was a small light of mirth in her eyes as her drawl held a jesting tone.

“And if you are going to be my willing subject you’ll have to do everything I say.”

Shaking her head she let out a soft snort of disdain as she returned to her meal. As he attempted to pry she assumed he did not care. No one ever did. Offhand she spoke once more in between her chewing, her eyes briefly shifting to his own before she focused more on her meal.

“You have no interest in what disappoints me…do not lie.”