Blackfoot Forest dark on me

Nova offered him a pleasantry, though he could not bring himself to return it verbally. Instead, he settled for a dip of his head in acknowledgment, deciding that there did not need a verbal return of it. Besides, Sinaaq didn't do pleasantries anyway. The atmosphere of their meeting seemed to be making a gradual and natural turn to something a bit more welcoming that it had been previously, no doubt having rose to something of tension because of his unwillingness to share. Sinaaq was an expert at blocking others out — though it continued to cost him. Still, he feared allowing others to get close, confident that they would do what everyone before them had: leave wounds upon his mishappen and tortured heart until Sinaaq felt sure that he would cease to be able to pick up the pieces. Perhaps he simply trusted the wrong wolves. Or perhaps it was his own fault. As to the ultimate reason, Sinaaq didn't care to investigate and thus let it go with a slight rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Not nearby, no,” The darkling gave his response wiry, though it was genuine. He was aware of the presence of packs in this valley but he did not call them home. Not that he could say that he called the Spine home, in all actuality. His constant disagreements with Cara had nearly cost him his place within the pack once, something he was only just able to remedy before she chased him out. “It's called Ouroboros Spine.” He informed her, figuring that she was patient enough and he was feeling generous enough to throw her a bone and reward her for her patience.