I cannot say for certain that I understand his intentions entirely. To my understanding, he is of similar value to myself. However, his methods are... subject only to himself, and his reason for doing so connects to an unusual belief. Gods have never been my interest. There is no part of me that accepts that anything other than my own volition can direct my choices. His belief, however, does not impact me. And if it were to begin infiltrating and impacting the pack in such a way that it gained power, then I would simply remove it. With that in mind, it is easy enough to accept him into the folds of Glorall's territory. After all, he has a calm understanding about the way of the world. He does not question it. He does not question me. And like a shadow, he had departed Glorall in order to find our little mouse, Tesseract. I cannot help but wonder what kind of rabbit hole he had to go down in order to find him.

I wait for him, knowing he will return with information. In the mean time, I have taken to the spoils of spring. The crevices formed by stone across the beachfront are full of nesting birds, their eggs all too easy to pry out from beneath them as they flee or struggle themselves. It is all too easy to pin their wings to the rock, a paw pressed against their neck until it pops; it is almost ironic to feast upon their unhatched progeny as they linger above, only to be pulled down from their nest. It is there that I truly take the time to enjoy the meal; feathers drift downwind, the cackle and scream of their disturbed comrades lost in the wind. The repetitive nature of it is is relaxing. Comforting. It is needed when I consider just what I must do soon. Achlys has become far too round to be anything other than like Renai. In time, I will need to inspect each of those born to her. My... fondness of her does not reflect with a fondness for the creatures within her. If they are not suitable, they will be stripped and devoured like this bird. It is simple. Perhaps, I will go back to the prairies and take what is mine, too. It seems right to do so.

I only hear him when he is close; his foot steps hold a very particular timbre, a scanty sound that barely forewarns those he approaches I am sure. Nonetheless, I do not rise to meet him immediately; an ear twists towards him, my teeth busy dissecting the breastbone of the gull. He provides me with what I need to know and yet, he questions me. It is only then that I rise up, turning towards him and observing him with perhaps too much indifference. After all, his question seems folly.

"Do you stop to step on each and every ant you see?" I query him, my head dropping into a tilt as I meet the paleness of his eyes. "Do you wait until your prey ceases to move before you tear into it?"

Perhaps he does, and yet, I have my doubts. There is a certain joy in allowing those beneath you to continue. It is the same reason my mother and I, I am positive, have allowed Micteca to remain in the shadows, alive but simply... unimportant. It is because I take a silent pleasure in having that control, that power. If she departs those shadows, then it would be all too easy to end her. She does not even know she lives under that control. I am sure Tesseract does not either. It is like holding a paw above an ant's nest; they crawl about in the shadows, unaware that the paw could come crashing down at any second.

"You may enjoy the conclusion," it is clearly addressed to his... habits, and I cannot help but twist half my lip into an amused grin at the thought, "But I take pleasure... in the process."