He followed the scent merely to give him some form of entertainment. Things had been dull and curiosity did drive him now and then to seek out those from other paths and ways though most the time he preferred the solitary life of it being just him in the grotto. Grimoire had offered him a chance of a bit of change and excitement to his homeland, but he was starting to wonder what he should do himself to change his pace for his life. Find something to get into that wouldn’t risk his grotto home while also adding something more to his life than hanging about his preferred place thinking of his family that had long left the world. He was a mercenary after all, someone who worked for someone who could get him something equal in return. They gave his home, even if they were stale, a safe location to which he doubted he would be ousted from any time soon.

Currently though the black and gold behemoth was following this Iromar scent to ease the drawl of life. He had heard about their recent change of paws and perhaps he could gleen a little bit of what they were like, for all he knew he might find himself that entertainment he was longing for in his world. Though as his voice rumbled through the darkness he watched the slender body of the fem twist to look at him. However, his statement seemed to go above her. His knowledge of the past, of the wolves that used to call themselves demons seemed to be lost in the generations of their absence of rule. Dirge wasn’t even certain any of that line still existed, and he only knew of them from the stories of them from his parents in his childhood.

Though it was when she turned and their eyes met that he felt… something. It was like electric charging through him causing the edges of his lips to rise unbidden and his hackles to rise. He wasn’t angry though, this uncertain feeling that was in him that was going towards her. She seemed almost bored with him already. Her own fur was standing on end, and slowly his hackles relaxed again and her own had as well. So did she feel something as well? While this feeling was new and unfamiliar and in a way unwelcome, he knew it was something he heard about as well. Imprinting. This fated day the trail he had followed had delivered him into the maw of his soul, he was still uncertain of who she was, and soon her smirk and reply left him staring at her, unamused and certainly far from raging or laughing.

”Wrong. You do not understand the history of the very land you sleep in.” He grumbled his golden eyes staring like daggers into his own, unable to break they eye contact they had. ”I am not from here.” He lended to that further. She must be new to the lands of Moladion fresh blood and unaware of the history. Not that it was wholly a bad thing, simply that things were changing, the past was fading into the fog quicker than he could imagine. How long until he and his family were nothing but distant memories to few as well if an entire reign of wolves was already nearly forgotten?