Shadewood wasted with the rhythm, angry at the melody

Despite an inclination to repel the unfamiliar, Bruxa was quick and greedy enough to latch onto information when it was being so blatantly dangled in front of her. Her tail lashed and she kept his gaze with the unblinking stare of a cobra, but she did not advance on him aggressively: the sign of a subtle pass, for now. 

The druid didn't consider him a threat to her. He was defensive, but not foolish enough to fight heedlessly— at least not at this time. He could be solid, if groomed carefully, she thought idly of the mink-furred seawolf; but she also wondered what good was a male if not forthcoming? She decided to see if he lived up to her standards. "Why?" the woodwitch lashed her forked tongue and turned back her ears, lowering her head to adjust the readiness of her stance. Sulfuric eyes bored into his gaunt, young face, hounding its curves fiercely for a lie.