Grimoire felt extremely stealthy with her disguised, murky scent, and cover. She’d tracked the silver wolf when she’d entered the woods, thinking maybe that the young flesh would be a tasty treat. However, the little wrench outweighed her and despite her puppiness, had enough meat on her to put up a fight without needing much skill. Grimoire was not looking for a difficult meal; she wanted one that wasn’t going to get her bruised.

That being said, the tracking had been far more thrilling than the prospect of eating. She’d nearly been spotted a few times! It was an excellent reminder to be vigilant in stalking. And then she’d been just as surprised as the silver wolf when the golden brindle fellow exploded like vomit from the swamp. Grimoire settled down to watch the interaction from underneath leafy foliage down wind. She could have died laughing, if not for her self restraint. Boy had he shot himself in the paw. The little silver wolf was a specimen of fine proportion, and he’d totally just taken the in she gave him and shredded it! Grimoire was disappointed that he didn’t truly wish to harm the little silver fox, but she was more taken with his adorable confusion afterward.

The poor babe was suffering from an egoistical mindset. Classic of pups, who thought the world functioned around them. Grimoire would help him gleam the truth of things - if for nothing else than to grab a potential connection. He would be a powerful creature when he understood the way of the world and she’d prefer that he was in her good graces than someone else’s.

She slide out of her hiding spot, emerging like a figment of imagination. She tilted her head at him with a pleasant, lazy expression. Her eyes were half open and her voice was whimsical as she told him bluntly,

“You forgot that those outside your head don’t know what’s going on inside of it. Do you understand what that means?”

It was obvious that interaction wasn’t his strong suit and even more dangerous than that was that he was litteral. She attempted to chose her words carefully, but she was far from perfect. It would be a miracle if mishap didn’t occur because she’d grown up speaking riddlish. Speaking with defined purpose was an experience she didn’t have much talent at. She found it difficult and didn’t understand what she was saying half the time until it was out of her mouth, but she was a chameleon. She would adjust until she found the words that could unequivocally explain things to a brain that wasn’t her own.