flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]
It wasn’t often that she opened her expressions up to be read like an open book, but this was clearly one of those times that she did allow herself to do just that. She’d learned quickly from her Aunt how important it was to keep the face clear of any and all expression, to remain blank and unreadable, to not allow yourself to be vulnerable to others in any way. But sometimes, just sometimes, she forgot those lessons and let her emotions be viewable on her face. It was mostly when her curiosity was peeked, though, and very rarely any other emotion.
When he answered, he used far more words than she had grown used to hearing. Her ears were pushed fully forward and her icy gaze remained fixed upon his rugged face. “No,” she replied with a slight shake of her scarred head. “Just figured you’d want the name of the pack on the mountain, and perhaps the name of the bitch that woke you from your sleep.” She gave a slight shrug after she’d finished speaking. Since coming here, she didn’t get a whole lot of interacting with those that were also residing on the mountain with her and her cousins, mostly because she kept herself quite busy with patrolling and keeping an eye on as much things as she could. She took it upon herself to do these things without having been told to because it was what she’d been used to doing for her Aunt.
Bored yawn caused her to slightly part her jaws while it passed. She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders to stretch them a tad. “You hunt?” Although he was a stranger to her, to Tartok, she inwardly longed for someone to hunt with. It had been far too long since she'd run beside someone else to bring down something larger than a partially grown fawn or a sizable rabbit.