Haunted Wood Girls in heels

So, she'd recovered from her concussion after colliding so dismally with Venny's bulbous head. But she should probably make amends and stop lazing and sulking in the pit. In truth, after she'd recovered, she wanted a break. It only lasted a couple of days, but it did ensure there'd be no relapse.

Today would be the day she'd have to go to @Vengeance and prove she knows her place. And that was a misconducted outburst, caused by him. Either way, she now knew somethings about him. He liked to headbutt; literally and metaphorically. Asshole. Attacks on him would be from behind for best results, though with his speed she'd need a partner.

She lept from the pit, readily searching for Venny. Though she had a suspicion he was watching her right now. She'd walk in a general direction, looking for a trace, and if he decided that tackling her from behind and forcing her to submit was appropriate, then so be it.
It'd just make her want to snap into him further.

There was something strange about Vanity as of late. She was now one of the higher-ranking individuals in the pack, the only one that held a second-tier position within the pack, and yet, her outburst after their spar- the one she demanded, was suspicious. He had indeed been watching her from afar. Carefully for any further signs of maddening, that might need to be addressed further. Any apples rotting in the bunch would have to be tossed out before they spoiled them all after all. 

He made no attempts to find the woman, leaving her to her own devices, to leave the pit once she found the strength to do so on her own accord and simply allow Aldrich to inform him on her movements without needing to be physically present. The rat was useful in many ways, and being an extra hidden set of eyes was certainly one of them. Unlike the flying companions that most would have, the rat was naturally an expert at keeping hidden, away from eyes and able to infiltrate fairly easy. 

One thing he wasn't aware of, was that the woman was once again looking for him. From the borders for a patrol, he was on his way back to his den - they would soon be crossing paths.

So, the Warlord wasn't watching for her. Why was she even hoping?
Why?
Nothing happened, no large beast came to press his warmth into her...
She missed that. And wondered where Revui was. The soft (at least he was when drugged) land-shark was here, but not revealed to her.
Her teeth gritted, a lump swelling in her throat and she paused, glaring at the ground to take a shuddering breath.
Fuck, this was a pack of mercenaries. This was not Family.
They were not Family.

Vanity carried on, no evidence of her internal plague showing on her.
She didn't even know Vengeance had a spy. But there he was, walking back to the dens, likely from a patrol. She stepped up, passing up alongside him to put her muzzle under his, tail tucked firmly and a quiet whine to show she was sorry for her actions.
She didn't mean it, she didn't understand why really, and neither would he.
She hoped he hadn't replaced her.

Aldrich was the first to realize someone was coming near. The little rodent had sharp ears. The moment he heard footsteps approaching, he hopped off of Vengeance's back and skittered into the treeline, he would follow them from behind within the shadows, hoping to return to the Warlord's den with him to chew on any remnants left by the hungry beast who exchanged the rat's loyalty for food. 

The rat's exit was the first indication to him that someone was approaching, and swiftly his ears were on alert. The footsteps came from behind, the scent that came with it was unmistakable, Vanity had once again come to find him. Looking over his shoulder, he kept an eye on her as she moved along his side, waiting for her to retaliate for being thrown into the pit, a lip quivers in response to her approaching, warning her should she try anything cute. 

But as she ran her muzzle under his, the soft whine had him relax. She was repenting. Mating season was approaching... and her muzzle against his was a welcoming gesture. Whether she knew it or not, it was clever of her. His tense muscles relaxed as he stopped all forward motion, leaning into the embrace and allowing his own muzzle to run across hers, pressing against her before speaking. You seem to have regained your senses. The baritones slithered from his maw, smooth, almost sultry as he spoke in a low tone just enough for them both to hear. 

Closing the gap between his maw and her ear, he approached further, unless she backed off, his broad chest should press up against hers, invading her space while his hot breath brushed against her cheek and ear. I have killed for less... He warns - his voice just as low but a certain stern tone infiltrated his previous pillow talk voice. There were few he wouldn't have, throwing her in the pit was a gesture of mercy as far as he was concerned. But Vanity was an important member of the Nightwalkers now, and a moment of insanity was worth to wait out... he was glad she seemed to have regained her senses.

He accepted her apology. She didn't stop though, for he wanted to touch her. She would have drawn away after he'd accepted with a nod or a few words of reminding. But he pressed his muzzle into hers, and she wouldn't miss her chance to piss off Serem. If it even would.

"Head injuries are known to cause madness." It was her defense, and she'd thought about it on her days off. She knew of others who'd fallen from mountains and returned wish head wounds, acting in an insane manner. Trying to kill all who opposed them.
Their injuries were permanent. And were put down.
She was surprised she wasn't.

He closed in, pressing against her. She dropped low, rolling to her back to show total submission. It was what he wanted, it seemed. And his words came like hot lave, burning at her fear of death.
"I know..." Her voice was quiet. She felt so exposed. What if someone else took their chance on her and ripped into her soft flesh...They were alone.
Vanity swallowed, feeling uncomfortable and hoping -- praying -- he'd either leave or ask her to do something. Just so she could get up not before he was satisfied.

There was still something off about the woman. He knew Vanity as a vain, seductive harpy. She always had a reply for everything, and though she did explain about head injuries - it was still out of character from what he remembered of the woman. Overly submissive, she was the one who had come to him to demand a spar, and now she seemed to fear him. Perhaps the spar had shed light on the true difference between them, or maybe something else had happened since then that he wasn't aware of. 

Pulling back, he allowed the cold air to filter through them once more, no longer feeling the warmth of her body against his. I'm pleased you've recovered. Standing for a moment, he consumed her appearance, the way she presented herself, the way she bent under his presence in this little meeting. Strange, but not unwelcomed. Once he had had his fill of the situation, he focused on the path he was on previously before she came up from behind. Unless she had more to add, he would be off again - having nothing left to say or add to the conversation for now.

As soon as he pulled back and the barrier was once again slammed between them, she rolled and stood.
As nimble as any mercenary or hunter. 
Being willingly submissive was hard.

Though, he gave her his regards. Then she remembered something probably important she wanted to clarify with him; because if he didn't like a pack being north of the mountains, he wouldn't like the pack to the west.
"You know about the pack to the west, right?"
Hopefully, someone else had found them, because, during her time in the pit, it was hard to tell Vengeance. Though it should've been done sooner.

As he began to stride away, her words held him in place. He didn't expect her to have more to add to the meeting, the way she was acting he expected them to part ways almost immediately; instead, his ears rolled back to catch the words while the man's tail curled lightly to one side. Clearly, she had piqued his interest. Which pack?

Black Hat had told him about Neverwinter Forest's pack in the making, but that was to the east. A new one forming in his lands was unknown to the King of the Haunted Woods. Standing still, he didn't bother to turn back around to look at the white-faced woman, instead, he aimed his audits for her to capture every word that would come. He stood as still as stone, barely a breath moving his ribs.

"I'm unsure of their name," she'd forgotten to ask in both interactions, but she wouldn't misplace them not forget their scent.
"They seem strong, and I can easily infiltrate to gain trust or promote services if needs be." 
She offered herself up as a rouge or diplomat. He was the Warlord and this was his land. She'd partake in either.

"They are to the west, half a day walk from the nearest border." Very close. She was surprised he'd not found them himself. But perhaps he was too busy with his consort to care about his land.

Smoothly a dark brow rose at the mention of this pack being "strong", and so close indeed. They were lucky so far that only Vanity had found them. He had to go and pay them a visit now. Perhaps bring @Hydra along with him in order to welcome them to the lands and propose their original idea of another alliance with restrictions of power. It would be interesting to see what their reply would be. 

I will call for Hydra to come with me as we welcome our new neighbors. He began, but Vanity had more to come as his lips parted once more, swiftly crawling into that moment of silence he allowed to hang for a brief moment. Stay low and silent, but I would like to know more of them. Try and infiltrate if possible, gain their trust. Get to know them as much as possible. We cannot trust everything their leaders say right away.

If nothing else was needed to be said, he would begin his departure to go and find Hydra to bring her on the journey to meet the new squatters in their Wilderness...