The sense of eyes burrowing through him and across his body is enough to capture his attention. He does not turn to seek out this emissary but instead waits for her approach. Fireflies softly glow around the trees as they fade in and out as his ear flicks at the sound of something moving from behind. He does not feel the pleasurable calm that normally overtakes him when he is near to Zawyne and that means this wolf is a stranger to him. He remains still, with that one ear cocked backward, as he slowly turns his head to capture a view of the femme from the corner of his eye. A blurred depiction of black, gray, and white breaks the darkness of the moorland as she steps around the trunk of a tree, her voice rings out pure and feminine. Lost. How could he be lost if this was his kingdom of decay? She speaks again, the same smooth tone overcoming the chirrups of the night creatures around them.

He knows of individuals like her. The femme fatale made of venom and lace. It practically runs in his blood - his great-grandmother had been of such a kind. He has learned that they are quick to speak with silver tongues but not always so soon to draw blood; there are exceptions, of course. Even still, she is one who may be like him. One who feeds the dark hunger that burns and claws at the back of her mind just as he does. Or maybe she is simply a fraud. He will soon find out.

His hedonistic figure turns completely within the shadows of the morass until he has come to face her head on. She is taller than expected but still pales in comparison to his monstrous physique; an easy sacrifice for the demons that torture him. But he will spare her life for now, for how long that will last no one can be sure.

”No. Not looking for anything,” He is a brute of little word and cuts straight to the point. Perhaps if his mind functioned on anything more than basal need then this female’s offer would be more appealing. Thus far, she has not proven herself to be worthy of the life she was given.

He could change that…

”Why.” As in, why would she ever want to help him in the first place. But he will let her figure out exactly what he means on her own. He is only marginally curious of her reasoning or if she would even tell the truth. She would get nothing from helping him even if he did need her assistance. His deadened eyes watch her closely, knowing that these types of wolves tend to try more tricks than the typical stranger. She couldn’t be trusted. Though he was not afraid of her by any means.