It occurred to Atlas that perhaps he still had things to learn about being a warrior. Was this what you were supposed to do after you saved someone's life? Surely you weren't expected to just leave them to fend for themselves. If he'd done that, the female that laid at his side surely would have perished. It is perhaps a curse of sorts, the tendency for the boy to over think things such as this, but with age such a habit would ware away. Experiences like this one would teach him much about himself. Pale yellow eyes remained fixated on the smudge of mud just behind her ear as she asked his name, and only when she tilted her head backwards and the mud was lost from his vision to did he realize that he was keeping her waiting for an answer. He missed the momentary amused smirk upon her face as he lightly shook his head, and as he stopped he gave her his name. Twice. As if that was necessary. It had been her body that had suffered the injuries tonight, not her ears.

He started to realize the impression he was making on her as she slowed her speech as she gave her name, and he felt his brows pull together in reaction. He was not stupid, only young and naive. But perhaps that all equated to the same. Such naiveté would not last long past this evening, the sight of one wolf ravaging another and the subsequent closeness of a female not his family to his body making a quick remedy for such a thing. As he stared into her solitary, burning eye there was the slightest tick that signaled the breaking of her tolerance of his mannerisms. He did not recoil from her words, instead ears pricking forward intently as the rush of words washed over him. Blinking, he stays silent, noticing the lapse of her severe appearance just before she turned away from him. He has no words for her, not wishing to make himself sound more the fool. Being blessed by the flames was something he did not fully grasp, for she seemed honored to have lost her fur and flesh to fire. It was the statement about the she-demon that he had cast into the river that settled a familiar determination in his chest once more.

As her head lowered to her paws the slick of mud upon her fur caught his eye once more, and he stared at it for but a moment before he lowered his nose towards her head. The warmth of his breath was certain to wash over her ear the second before his tongue brushed repetitively at the spot until it was white once more. The timid nature he had felt before seemed to vanish in these moments, reminding himself of the fearlessness he'd displayed in rescuing her. Pulling his head back he turned slightly forward and lowered his head to his own paws, cringing as the movement shifted his shoulder and reminded him of the injuries he had earned this night.

He realized then that the sett was ever so slightly illuminated, the faintest light of predawn beginning to edge at the night sky as he spoke once more. "She needs to be...taken care of." He said then, referring to the she beast, and his mind turned then to the assassins that so populated his home. Maybe he and Emil could find her and extinguish her presence from Moladion. Never before had he considered doing such a thing, but the injuries he had sustained in combination with witnessing a near murder seemed to have more of an effect on Atlas than he had originally realized. If he was not careful, the exhaustion from the night's events would be sure to steal him into slumber soon.