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Following Phex's arrival after being attacked.
@Cry

Unbeknownst of tension on their horizon, the Bull has found a routine. Most of it is dull, and the other involved pestering the shadow whenever the boy showed himself. He strides amongst the Keep, patrolling the edges of their territory in search of entertainment. Perhaps it is time he stretches his legs and wanders once more from the Keep's reach. Ears, however, twitch as he catches purposeful footsteps headed his direction. It is the shadow, and this time, he does not appear hesitant with his approach. An eyebrow slowly arches on the Bull's face; what's got your panties in a twist, boy?
Before he summoned the rest of the Keepsmen, he had to think this through. He had to come to terms with some things, things that he could not allow his rage to handle for him. His indignation, his wrath- both were to be held fast as the Phantom found what he needed in a situation such as this. 
Reiner.

The beast did not speak much, giving him leeway to rant and rave as he saw fit or needed; however as of late, his words and language too began to dwindle. He was not as talkative, as elaborate as he was when setting up pack. He seemed to distant himself from the sociable interactions all while keeping near enough to know all of what was going on. There, but not. A true Phantom. 

But he made himself visible to the tyrant wolf, a brief flash of glacials acknowledging the beast before confirming the question thick in the air. 

“A member of ours was maimed, and potentially molested by a member of our allied pack.” His auds flipped to lay crisp and sharp across his obsidian crown. Shutting his eyes, he recapped all of what he had endured for the past week. “I wish to meet with Damien, and seek recompense.”

His back was originally to Reiner after he initially walked clear into the behemoths presence, but now he turned to face the warmaster. 

The second half of his plan was stuck on his tongue as he took in the sight of the judge mental giant. 
It would only confirm what he was considering, what he was turning into.
And thus it slipped from a sooty tongue.

”And should I receive none, I will have them all slaughtered.”
Hellfire eyes brighten, interest narrowing down the tip of his muzzle as the Bull is brought back to life. Chaos is his favorite meal, and he has been starved for too long. Without Jotham at the helm, the veteran is restless. Now the Keeper brings him promise of a feast.

No ally, he rasps. They made their choice, attacking one of theirs is a stab in the back and the Bull hungers to sink teeth into flesh. Gather information. His uneven pitch butchers pronouncations of the words, but he gets the point across well enough. A spy would do Shadewood Keep good, and the more information they learn about these traitors, the better it is to strike them. Perhaps there are other enemies of this pack that would be worth befriending.

Pack name?
A shaded ear struck to the low rumbles of the elder male, a piece of him heeding the dismay while another rebutted against it. There was no reason to ravage so soon-
and this Reiner read his mind, yet again. A pleased smile courted the tipped crown of the ebony male, and he gave the elder a companionesque due of perked tail, of interest in this plan they devised together. 

”A spy would do. They are The Melonii.” Yet then the question come past- should they meet with The Melonii before the spy had completed their work? Or should there the meeting first? If the meeting began, the spy would possibly seem too obvious. Yet if the spy was send ahead of the meetings, they could be found out early or not have enough time before their work was finished.

”Which would you suggest? Spy or meeting first?”
Political dancing has never been the Bull's forte. While he aimed to smash all who stood in Jotham's—and thus his—path, his King knew how to manipulate courts into destroying themselves. Of course, the Bull has learned how to conduct himself being alongside Jotham's side for years. Now he is put in the position of advisor for this new ward, and as much as the Bull hungered for a pound of flesh, it would do the Keep little good to start it.

The scarred veteran nods his muzzle, subtle enough that the shadow must pay close attention to his movements. A spy is exactly what they needed. Good.

Spy, he advises. Your most trusted. For if the Keeper sends a fool, their plan would quickly crumble. It has to be someone keen, able to manipulate with a silver tongue and appear most innocent in times of need. But they mustn't stab Shadewood in the back, either. It has to be a delicate balance.
"You." The word flung with the whoosh of a unnotched arrow, thudding direct into the chest of the Demon. But the target was not the existence he aimed for- it was the importance. "You are most trusted, but you will not be who I send. I will not risk losing you, nor your potential."

Turning from the Mentor, Raziel pondered through the entirety of his command, each individual face and name, perfumes and colognes flooding him in a relentless wash of memory. Of how they came to under his gaze, within his home, their home. They were all Family, and yet- 
It was he who was disconnected from them all, the most. Most especially...

Amaya. She was a rather plain looking girl, blending into most regular hordes of packs with ease, a regular grunt of the mindless drones. It was her who had been seen as a soft woman, an individual who needed to feel her Keep Watcher in her life much more than what he had been as of late. He was the shepherd to their greatness, but a member of his flock needed honing. She needed her hooves filed to points, her teeth sharpened to fangs.
Amaya would recognize him.
And he would hope to recognize her, too.

"Amaya is my chosen one."

“You.”

The arrow thuds, impacting him on his broad chest. His ripped ear twitches, flicking towards the shadow with interest. How soon had he risen to become the boy’s most trusted member. The Bull does not bother hiding the twisted grin that curves across his lips, displaying yellowed teeth in all their glory.

Alas, it is not he that the shadow wishes to send. The veteran eases in his stance—almost disappointed that the boy treasures his knowledge more than his actions at the moment. But he will not argue against a command.

Cry takes his time to debate before a name is unearthed; Amaya. A low hum rumbles in the pit of Reiner’s pierced chest. “Test,” he rasps, “Amaya must deceive.” If she cannot, then their plan would crumble before it begins.
It seemed to surprise the Beast that Cry had chosen him- but ironically, it seemed the most predictable choice. Cry sought him frequently, training under him until he had lost the lean and limber appearance, morphing through a slow process into a muscled hulk not too far from the Mentor's own nightmarish size. As despicable as it was, Cry fed upon every minute of their spars, of their lessons, of their unity. If there was a soul he felt closest to in this dusking crescendo of woods, it would be him. 

It felt just as off not choosing the giant to be who he had infiltrate the pack. But it was a decision his intellect rather than his pride had chosen for him. It seemed his wit was still in a single function, even if it was shattered in a billion pieces. 

"Come," he offered to the behemoth Master. "We will get this done immediately."

With that, the Phantom led his advisor through the folds of forest into The Keeper's Meet.