Ravensblood Forest shoulders smooth as raven's claws

She moves ahead for a while longer. Still, this man follows her. After miles of this, Ikkalrok stops and turns to look at him, her gaze expectant and hard as it held him there. Her lobes pricked forward, and she takes a solid step in his direction, a heavy, bison-like breath emitted from leathery nostrils. She mutely demands an answer, and there is little room to guess at what she was asking, without needing to utilize words at all: What do you want?