She waited for what seemed like days for a wolf to be foolish enough to answer her call, reclining on a stone as she fantasized on all the delicious types of torture the wolf body could handle without dying too quickly. A tic in her jaw showed her growing frustration with every second that passed by without a visitor, the multi-hued band of color in her eyes shrank as her pupils dilated with the force of her anger. No one refused her summons. Aggression fades slightly as the sound of nails clicking on stone drifted to her inky audits. Sitting up on her haunches, she waits for the fly to find her web.

If he had made a normal entrance, Kedorah would have attacked almost instantly, such was her hunger and anger at having to wait. She had made a career of waiting, living off of the few who got lost in the caverns and the small mammals that resided within its labyrinth of tunnels. She had run here, in her teens, hiding from persecution for a crime she was not aware she had committed. Killing and eating a litter mate was apparently frowned upon. Since then, she has become a creature of the dark, the monster in a child's proverbial closet. The introduction to this wolf managed to snare her attention and rile a bit of interest in him, perhaps he would be taken off of the menu. With rapt fascination she watches as he demonstrates his taste for wolf meat, tearing into the haunch o' wolf as if it were the last one he would see. A slow, dark smile comes across her exceptionally beautiful face as he speaks, offering her the wolf haunch. ❝How odd that you would be wise enough to bring a gift for me, most only have themselves to offer.❞ Her eyes glinted darkly before she stepped forward.

Without hesitation or fear, she comes closer to the interesting male's meal, seemingly intent on taking the meat for herself. Kedorah stays a few steps away, taking care to keep out of striking distance. Cannibals were tricky prey, they were harder to kill because they were accustomed to being the predator. Many times in the past the grey and black femme would have to outfox them before she got to take them down and feast on the deliciousness of cannibalism. The meat held more salt, it was sweeter somehow, and seasoned ever so slightly with darkness. The woman of hell-fire and brimstone sat, completely at ease with him, it would seem. Her body remained ready to move despite the appearance of relaxation. Having been persecuted and hunted, Kedorah is always ready to make a preemptive strike. She made no move for the trap that would be the wolf leg, her eyes slowly scanning over his body and face as she sized him up and made her plans to eat him rather than the cold bit of leg he had.