The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.
He knows of her coming well before he turns to look for his visitor, and well before she shows herself. His size alone makes him confident in his own safety in the face with someone of his own kind; he has been a loner far longer than he was a pampered prince, after all. He learns what his environment has to share and does not worry about the onlooker (he believes there is only one) until it is clear she (he was sure it was a she) wished to show herself.
His head turns, his body remaining still, and his blue eyes watch her foreboding entry, red paws then white to copper legs, until at last he is looking at a familiarly colored wolf -- at least familiar palette of colors, since he did not know the wolf herself. She shares much the same appearance as himself in a lot of ways, only more starkly copper where he was a deep mahogany. She shone and there is a little glint in his eyes that says he recognizes beauty at any age and in any creature. His eyes are the kind who have seen many beautiful things, however, so there is not the usual undertone males could have if they anticipated getting something out of that beauty.
He has seen flowers that eat meat, after all, so there was no evading his awareness that beauty did not meant peace or safety.
She is quite young, though no doubt closing in on her adulthood, promising to be as large as him if she did not come to weigh as much. Her paws exposed this far more than her glinting eyes, that she was not all she appeared - she was more. Perhaps that thrill of familiarity of color palette did mean more to him than he anticipated, something familiar amongst all the aliens he had thus far spotted traveling hither and yon.
He does not suspect her purpose of collecting his pelt, nor of her and/or her brother’s dietary habits, other than that she, perhaps, smelled a little peculiar as her body broke down flesh of her own species. He tilts his head, not sweetly and rather a bit more curiously than one of his age was prone to looking. He does not move as she circled him, too easy to broadcast your next moves with micro expressions and so forth.
All at once, though, she comes to his front and sits before him. He had known death long, had felt it’s breath on his throat, and this female was not yet prepared to be it’s representative -- however, he respected her as it’s scion, a priestess of Apep at the very least. Young or not, she could certainly learn to grow into her own power.
He wished to be there to see it.
“Where?”
Ah, so she spoke Common. Common tongue was an interesting thing and he fell into it’s speaking rather easily, for as it’s name, it was indeed a common tongue amongst the lands abroad. “Where to or where from, child.” His voice comes as a bit of a command, but mostly because he could not stand impreciseness in speaking to strangers. You never knew if something would make them upset and her boldness could easily get her into trouble if she could not at least endeavor to be more precise in asking for what she wanted of others.
He can hear too, though, that it is not a common thing for her to speak - a slur to the words that encourage him to show her some physical representations of his intent, a prick to one ear, a sideways flat of his other, intentness to his eyes and a raise of his tail.
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