the storm rode along his back, heavy purple and moving at an ostensible clip. to the south a mournful wind stirred, hot and oppressing as it tongued along the hinterland at a languished prowl. gloom had settled into the trees, and stilled their whispering -- and a quiet hung overhead fragile and as calamitous as the impending strike of a hammer.

iliksis moved with the storm, noticing little of the terrain save for the lack of food it provided. ahead he caught a golden flash against the already sky-darkened rocks - his ears swept forward and he drifted towards the naiad's form, as if pulled along some unseen current. he made no introduction as he curiously eyed her figure, though as the distance between them dispersed, he stepped with a heavy tread that appeared to earnestly entreat her attention.

the wolf's gold-crowned head lifted from her rumination, and focused on iliksis with what he believed might have been a passing yet scrutinizing glance. he stopped; the leaves rustled about him, and the storm moved ominously forward.

he had already seen enough of the brass-hued she-wolf to know he liked her type; she seemed woven by some limber handwork, with soft honey eyes that he did not believe for a second were naive. drawn to her leggish physique, iliksis curbed the hunger that grew not in his belly, but elsewhere.

"not looking for anything. you are, though." the answer came with a twinge of bemusement; if he could present himself as disarming, perhaps he could get the better of her and take her down before she had much a chance to contest his advances.

iliksis took that brief moment, in which niamh looked back on her progress, to study her more fully. he considered the soft creaminess of her subdued-brass pelt a rarity; he had not seen such a blonde vision in the wilds, and immediately the man was conspiring ways in which he might feel the soft plush of her golden fur against his cheek and stomach.

he dropped his thin snout and roused the dirt between his paws. "hunting?" he could not hide the sheen of cruel delight to hear such a word. he scraped the earth between his claws and looked at her with newfound interest. "show me her scent."

for a moment, the fell beast was conflicted: carry on with his plot, and possibly vie for survival with this clearly fit, seasoned warrior -- alternatively, he might be given a free pass in ravaging, so long as he did it besides this revenge-driven nymph. it might be the perfect guise to earn her trust - something the man could use to his favor later if he was so inclined.

he took his time inspecting the scent niamh had stepped back and exposed for him; to a sharp eye, it would have looked if the grim creature was gravely studying every crossed note of this missing person's scent -- yet it was not so, iliksis was carefully biding his time, and weighing his decisions.

after a time, he glanced upwards and his gaze trailed along the heavy stormclouds, which moved in close on dour faces. in fields afar they rested ominous and heavy against the obscured mountain ranges: rain was falling in the distance.

"it is not good." he concluded, turning back to the golden sylph with a frown. "it is easier to track when there is moisture in the air, but the rain will present a problem." he canted his muzzle in the direction the trail meandered, as if suggesting niamh pursue it. "there is time yet, if you are quick."

grey formless shapes moved along the arms of the mountains; clouds, their faces down-turned and a heavy steam rising from under them. iliksis traced their travel thoughtfully, masterfully hiding the true object of his attention: niamh.

and so it appeared their meeting would come to an end. the honeywheat female made polite yet pointed conversation, and he could tell from the shift in her body she was preparing to depart well before she spoke of it. "iliksis." he offered, a cant of his muzzle given as if to say well met.

he decided then he would not squander this opportunity -- if and when niamh returned her name and then turned from him, the male would launch upon her -- hoping to use his advantage of surprise and overpower her before she realized his malevolent will.

the male waited for her name, passive and silent. niamh. a strange name to him, in a tongue that his own had little business uttering. hungering after fine form, he watched as she flicked her lithe tail and turned -- moving along at a quick trot.

he would have followed her then, were it not for the speed in which she departed. it was quick enough that efforts to conceal footfalls would be futile; he would be heard.

he sighed, a tattered ear flicked in the gesture of a wolfish shrug. and then, set after the trail she had left with a lolling, casual stride.