He had settled quickly into the ways of the Mountain, led comfortably by Jinx. Secured — for now — in his rank upon the hierarchy, the shaman had begun his search for a den almost immediately. Whilst the others were welcome to den together, that was not an option for the reclusive and often snappish man, though the thought of denning down with Ira as well as Jinx irritated him to no end; he had figured that the insolent whelp would follow at her heels like a lovestruck badger.

The crags were not kind to him, and so Lecter scaled them carefully, refusing to move too high upon the Mount lest he be unable to retrieve himself back to safer ground. Presently his icewater eyes alighted upon a small depression in the rock face, and a worn deerpath winding its way toward the mouth. Upon further inspection, Lecter chuffed in contentment. The cave would do, for now; he slid into its depths, appraising the rock shelves and hanging stones for his purposes.

Teeth flashed in the gloom as a raspy voice floated into his hearing; with a quickness for one so old, Lecter darted from the denmouth. His eyes fell upon a red-eyed beast, caked in filth and blood, with a true demonic countenance, and a low sound of approval presently emanated from the healer. You are Sitri, he observed, having heard the other's words.

Why have you come here? the shaman demanded, neither challenging nor approaching the other. I do not need help, unless you have thought of something that I have not, he jested coldly.

Demon King? Lecter inquired curiously, with a catlike lash of his tail. I am no demon; I am a shaman. The realm of demonic activity was one that Lecter kept himself from; the Loa could be harsh enough. Therefore he was coldly perplexed at the title, and the other's odd method of speaking.

Did Jinx bring you among us? Lecter demanded, remembering Ferdie's summons of a creature to learn the shamanic arts. If this was he, then he seemed even more mad than Lecter, and the bloodstained elder doubted Sitri could be taught.

Lecter narrowed his eyes. The nature of his relationship with Jinx was not made public, though in a small group as was assembled upon Silvertip, word would travel swiftly. This was the first it had been pointedly addressed to him, however, and he watched Sitri for a moment before responding. I commune with the spirits around us, the Loa, and our Gods, he said simply.

Demon Queen, he purled. He did not see his wife as a demon, but perhaps those who did not know her with the same type of intimacy as he would mistake the fires of her fierce eyes as some otherwordly verve. And what are you? Lecter asked; what role did the odd wolf play in his service to the Demon Pair?

Sos. He is the Dark Bear, the Black God. He rules death in the land, and we please Him with blood, Lecter muttered, indicating the gore that splashed him from muzzle to tailtip. Eyes appraised the blood staining Sitri's mouth; it was pleasing to him that one another should follow the same rites, albeit somewhat differently.

Then do this for me: tell me what you wish with the Demon Queen. Your place here is not as slave, but as servant to her. Serve her well, and you shall be rewarded; fail, and I shall cut your heart out of your ribs in offering to Sos.

Perhaps, the shaman murmured, offering a smirk toward the bloodstained man. Do you listen? To the rest of Sitri's words, the shaman mused, pacing forward upon the path and inviting the other to follow with a jerk of his muzzle.

In serving her, you serve me. I know not of this Demon King — I am not he. I am Lecter, chosen of Sos, and his spokespiece, and I believe you shall be the same, in time.

He did not know of whom Sitri spoke — Jinx had flame-coloured eyes, at least to his worshipful eyes — but listened nevertheless to the brute. It seemed his companion did not believe that he could be taught such things; Lecter disagreed with a wide flare of his nostrils. That is nonsense. The Dark One has taught me only what He desires to be given in His service; I know little else.

A gentler creature might have formed a parallel betwixt himself and Sitri, but the Gamma was no such man, and leveled icewater eyes at the man, coldly awaiting any further questions.

Lecter nodded. Yes. But that will come with time. Already he liked the beast, unassuming, yet curious, a plant that drank in the rain of knowledge. He could do no better than to learn from Jinx and from himself, and in turn he would become something formidable.

Perhaps a creature to train in worship of Sos, to carry on the rites after he passed. A gentle incline of his head invited Sitri to accompany him, on a hunt, to speak - he did not yet know.