It seemed as if the cinereal beast was partial to forests, or at the very least, comfortable within their dark depths. Anselm had lingered within the thickening copse for hours - all the while trailing westward, in the direction of a lonely mountain. It cut a toothy silhouette through the early evening light. Perhaps his luck would be better upon the slopes, as opposed to this slumbering obscurity.

So he headed towards the butte which was in view - albeit barely - through the thinning tree line. By the time he made it to the stony range and up along a thin palisade of soil-ridden granite, the peak was hidden from view. But he was not alone - a fact which came upon him suddenly, as a voice rose through the gloom.

Anselm raised his head, but did not move to investigate - choosing instead to remain stoic upon the incline.

She was a petite thing, and pale. Initially Anselm would liken her to sunlight on a winter day - but then she set her eyes upon him, and the look she granted him made him reconsider. He had dealt with females before, at least his sisters, and they were of a similar variety to this. Something about the way she spoke to him was grating upon his ears. The boy instantly regretted his decision to stop.

I'm exploring. He quipped back - his tone bland, if it could be identified as anything. The rumble of his gruff, often unused voice should have clued her in to how disinterested he was in her antics. This was not a game he had the urge to play — and that was all any female interaction was. But, with his luck, Anselm had probably fallen in to whatever trap lay waiting to spring.

Without another word, he began to stride around the boulder with the hope that she'd take the hint.