Ouroboros Spine In the fell clutch of circumstance

Perhaps Kroc was more of a chameleon than she thought. Already, she wasn't that talkative but around the wolves of Tartok, she was even less so. She was also less irritable around them, surprisingly. She had always been a sort of angry being but that monster was soothed in their presence, a beast who enjoyed the company of its fellows, which was not to say that they were all monsters; just beings who operated less on social qualms and more on instinct and wildness. 

She stood guard there as her superior ate, tail flicking idly behind her as she did so. A hardy wolf, she could last until the next morsel was caught, until the next hunt happened. Then, they would all eat, together, and the livelihood of the pack would be sustained. 

Sitting on her haunches, a back paw lifted to scratch at her ear, gold eyes screwed shut for a moment as Tonravik finished. As soon as she did, Kroc was on all fours again, a feral sort of expression on he muzzle, one that could have been mistaken for a grin, her tail waving once or twice as ears swiveled in the direction of the black, muscled she-wolf. While the pale wolf didn't "play" per se, she could definitely rough house and run, either of which were an option as she invited Tonravik to action.