While he'd yet to spot any signs that might insinuate the return of the herds, Kove's attention was not placed entirely on hunting. He fished when he could, the skill having remained with him throughout his entire life thus far, but he also attended to his other duties—such as patrolling the borders. It was along them that the male trekked, stopping often to freshen the scents with a line of his urine, or by dragging his claws down the trunks of the barren trees. Occasionally, he'd go out beyond the border and skim over the land, seeking out any signs of trouble, and then continued when he found none. Yet, the cycle did not continue, it had not been permitted to do so. Rather, there had arrived an interruption, something that he'd been expecting to see only because the times were desperate ones. Though the stranger wasn't technically trespassing, she was certainly near enough to cause alarm, and so the Inuit had started stalking after her. He was quiet, keeping his head down and moving with necessary precision, but no attempts were made to physically conceal himself. Truthfully, it was only because he couldn't, as the greenery was no longer there to cast shadows down onto the earth.

There came a time in which Kove had grown tired of following her, of watching without any real actions being taken to dispose of the potential threat. Thus, he'd retreated, then, moving past the treeline and entering the space that shadows had once claimed as their own. There, his speed had increased, bringing him in-line with the creatures side and then past it. The Inuit continued forward until he was a decent ways ahead of her, and then broke away from the trees and revealed his ghostly form fully, stationing himself directly in her path. "Stop," he had commanded, calling out to her from his position rather than meeting her head-on. For the time being, it was just a normal part of his routine: spot an intruder, approach the intruder, and then dispose of the intruder. He'd yet to consider any other uses for her just yet, but for how long she'd continue to be safe was unable to be measured.

Kove knew not that his command had gone unheard, for the female had unknowingly obeyed him by stopping in place. He watched her rather carefully, examining her body language and overall physical state, wondering to himself if she might be categorized as a threat. In the end, he'd seen no reason to worry over what actions she might take, yet that conclusion did nothing to ease his posture. The Inuit remained alert, his limbs seemingly stiff, but only because the muscles beneath had readied themselves to spring forward should it be necessary. Often, it was in that moment that outsiders would begin pleading their case. They would either explain how they had no idea how close they were to a pack's land, or they would request an audience with the pack's leader. The peculiar creature, however, did neither of those things. Rather, she'd erupted into a fit of laughter out of nowhere, causing the man's gaze to harden. He hadn't taken kindly to what he believed was the disrespect of his status within a pack, and his displeasure showed clearly in his eyes. Though the moment the sound stopped—the abruptness hadn't taken him off guard, really, or at least he hadn't shown it if it had—any hints of emotion were wiped clean from every inch of his features. There he stood like a statue, stoic and unwavering, while his mind processed all the possibilities of what might be wrong with the stranger mentally.

For a brief moment, their gazes had met while a word was drawn out. Friend? Surely the woman didn't view him as her friend, or perhaps he had been mistaken for someone else. Although, he'd yet to actually question her or her motives for being there, allowing her instead a moment to look away and speak with herself. He was left unable to understand that which was being said, the lowness of her voice combined with the overall sounds of her words having made it impossible for him to do so. It was only when she'd looked back up and stated the same word as before that he'd found himself able to decipher that which was being said, but it did not provide any further insight into the situation. Was it a friend she sought, or was the creature so delusional that she believed every being she came across was a friend, rather than a foe? Foolish was she in both scenarios, for he was not her friend, and never would he be. She was an outsider, and a seemingly foolish one at that, thus disallowing him from having the chance to ever befriend her. This did not bother him in any way, of course, for no one could miss that which they never had, especially when it'd never been wanted, either.

Having grown tired already of her nonsense, the ghost took a single step towards her, only to pause directly after as his mind was invaded by an array of possibilities. They were not friends, yes, but perhaps he could use her belief that they were to his advantage. He'd considered a number of things, several uses that she could serve, before settling on one that seemed to speak to him far louder than anything else. The idea was one that he'd never before witnessed in person, but had heard stories of during his journeys prior to settling in Teekon. With the way the region currently looked, he felt it to be the most appropriate way to use her as well, and so forward he'd gone, lessening the space between them. "That's right, we're friends," he'd voiced as he'd stepped into the space that was but a meter away from her. "And friends trust one another. Can you trust me?" Every time he spoke, his words were slowed down and spaced out far more than what they would have been had he been speaking to nearly anyone else. He wanted to ensure that he was understood, that he could get her to listen to him. He operated with the best of intentions in mind, for the time had come in which he'd need to pray to Mephala and Sithis alike. To them he would need to ask for life, for the regrowth of Blackfeather and the return of the herds. To them, he would offer her.

Every time an expression seemed to crack the female's face, it looked as if it might be painful. Kove, however, could not bring himself to care about any discomfort that she may or may not be in, for the task he had in mind would mean that it didn't matter anyways. She would be to him nothing more than a tool, despite his words of friendship and trust. It seemed that, in many cases, words alone were far more powerful than actions. The smallest of lies could cause so much damage, perhaps even more than a physical attack, and so he'd allowed for his charms to take over. To con the female—which was far easier than he ever would have expected it to be—and lure her into trusting him. In the end, every lie told would be worth it, and never, he knew, would the statements weigh heavily on his mind. No, he could not care for some tool, for she was not truly alive in his eyes. Enough so that she'd be useful, but within her, he saw no freedom. Already she was his, and he'd shared with her but a handful of words.

The bond of trust that seemed to connect her to him was so strong already, that she'd be willing to trespass. The thought was almost laughable, but he kept a calm expression, falling into his old ways. "Good," he'd voiced, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. It was planned, perhaps even forced, but done so in a way that it seemed true—done so in a way that might reveal to those that knew him just how useful he could be. "I have a nice home for you to stay in. It's dark and cool, perfect for this warm weather." Of course, never would he mention how he spoke of a place meant for prisoners. That just wouldn't be a very friendly thing to do, right? Oh, how he had missed the days in which he could act in such a way. To her, he looked, motioning with his head for her to follow him as he entered the territory. "This way, this way," he'd called to her, his voice just above a whisper. "Be quiet, or else you'll wake the unfriendlies." Kove did not alert anyone of what he was doing, for it would serve as a wonderful surprise for them. He would offer a life in exchange for the end of the famine, and then he would allow for his mark to be fixed with her blood.

It would work, he was certain of it.

Into the woods had he led the foolish woman, taking her along paths least traversed, and stopping only after they'd reached Wolfskull. It was there within the cave that he'd stowed her away, keeping her trapped there until the moment came in which her life was needed.