Swarthy-seeming eyes flick between the pair. The eldest of the wolves seemed to hold a perpetual snarl, the kind that made his own fur prickle in discontent. It was in his nature to be dominant and yet she was fascinating. Her very breath causes Alouette to curl in on herself and as the smaller girl turns towards him, tail tucked between her legs, his eyes slide to her in an eerie sort of way. A token from the father he had yet to meet. Still he stares in unerring silence at Alouette for a good few moments and those moments are snapping with tension. Part of him wonders what would happen if he assaulted the girl. She cringed in upon herself, the perfect sort of prey; hadn't he wished to test his theory of making the weak stronger? If they could overcome such things?

It is only her soothing question that distracts him. Yes, his rabbit. That was his to be his experiment but it had wandered off. "Yes," he hisses in disdain, pink tongue sluicing across his lips to taste the chilled blood. Sekh talks now, a curt sort of half statement indicated for the other girl, and he stares up at the largest wolfess. Blackthorne always had a natural cow lick on the crown of his head, right where the silver spot was between his ears, giving him a permanently spiky look. When Sekh demands he come, it is backed by the black of his fur as it rises and he growls low in his throat.

But still, he comes.

Thorne is dominant but even he recognizes that Sekh was larger and she, too, was dominant. And he is curious, very curious, to see what will happen. He took a step forward now, dark eyes flashing but remaining open, unblinking, as he awaits what will happen. "No," he says curtly, ignoring Alouette for the moment for he has dismissed her as unimportant, or at least, the weakest of the three, even if perhaps she is the cleverest. Sometimes the most clever are the ones who remained under the radar.