Blackfoot Forest whisper

The inky black wolf blinked as he supplied her with his name, but she remained statuesque other than that. His question was met with stillness and silence, supplicating him with her obvious answer. No. Tonravik hovered over her kill, not sure what exactly his intentions were but neither did she care for them. Her eyes were unmoving as they remained upon him, a breeze playing through the trees that somehow accentuated the fact that she hardly moved, except for her chest which slowly rose and fell as she breathed. That, though, could hardly be seen in the shadows.

The Tartok matriarch was not annoyed by his presence, but could grow to be if he continued to speak. Tonravik was fine with silent encounters, and only wanted to enjoy her meal without her ear being talked off. Of course, he wasn't that talkative; but already he had spoken more than Tonravik had in, well, the week alone. The dark woman gave him a pointed look: what do you want.