Youth always seemed to hold a certain aura that the woman could pick up on, yet he was not a pup. His body was filled and grown, but was his mind? She knew that youth were stupid- untrained in the ways of the harsh world. A little experience goes a long way, as well as listening to the inner wolven instincts.
She did not care that he held his gaze long upon her. He was likely assessing her as she did him- and she did not feel particularly threatened despite the difference in size. He was a noisy one, and noisy ones often attract all sorts of attention. He didn't back down at her approach, but that did not cause any sort of hesitation with her darkened steps. It certainly did not encourage her to chase either- perhaps a wise move on the boy's part.
She watched him carefully after she spoke. Her amber eyes bore into him likes flames themselves, picking up on the slightest movements and twitches. He did not seem scared, no, but not completely confident either. She keeps her eyes trained on him, with her black ears moving only slightly to listen to any sounds that may come from outside of this situation.
His words are listened to, but they are not paid attention to like his movements. He questions, and thus he shows his youth, her fangs showing a bit from twitching lips. There is always something inside of her, a low yowl that comes at some point to take her mind, if only for a little bit, but she quells it for now as she could. 'They' was not something she could define. Words do not take form for them.
"Theeyy...they of not wolf," she warns, her head jerking to one side for a moment as a noise is heard in the distance. She stares it down with her red eyes in the darkness. Shadows and movements are everywhere- wind is always a thing, and plants seemed to move on their own at times. Her stare is intense into the night, her dark hackles mixed with red flaring slightly. She was prepared, always prepared, legs tense ready to attack. Only when he speaks does her tension fade ever so slightly, and her gaze of darkness returns to him. His words are appealing- she did indeed enjoy having some red fangs of her own. A smile slithered back on her ghostly maw.
"Yeesssss," she hisses as she steps towards him, her movement dominant but not aggressive. She moved like water- cold and smooth as she slide herself down his right side if he permitted- he had not moved before, why would he move now? It was an instinctual move, something that clawed in her to claim him as hers, even in a temporary sense. It allowed her to inhale his young scent, his dark muscular form and masculine musk.
"Yesss, redden, must go," she demands, white maw nipping at his back end before sliding around the other side of him, seeking to drive him forward. Leading was of course a thing of perspective. She wished to push him forward- and she wished to keep him in her sights, so...who will be leading who...and to where?