Witch's Marsh No Room in Frame

"Likewise," he responded, rebounding from his awkward word vomit. It was an empty gesture, of course, as she wasn't of his own pack— she wasn't family, but polite conversation commanded such discourse. Truthfully he cared little for the fate of the wolf before him, but she had shown him kindness and Reek felt it fitting to reciprocate in the same manner. He smiled a friendly grin and wished her well.  His body language suggested nothing sinister, nor did he hold malicious intent in his heart. There was only indifference.

His reasoning to come to the marsh had been similar; a necessary break from the stresses of leading a pack.  That, and making a mental catalogue of all the plants that remained with the season.  "I came for a change of scenery," he confessed.  "I've been sick for a while so I figured I'd go on an adventure once I came round— now here I am!"  He dipped his head and shrugged his shoulders forward in an almost playful expression.