The Heartwood who doesn't say a word,

The hybrid was going to have to make sure that this would be the last time he’d be running into the silver-eyed stranger. Although he had en joyed the playful banter they had exchanged last time, Styx was frustrated that the female had somehow managed to reappear not only before him, but also in his thoughts. He was growing angry with himself as the rogue was not one for remembering faces; however, somehow the coffee-coloured girl had managed to leave an imprint. The slender mutt barely remembered the faces of his siblings, why was this wolf so special? Joining a pack was completely out of the question – the hybrid would never abandon his freedom to adhere to some big-headed wolf. That was, if they even accepted him into their ranks. Although his coat gave him the appearance of a wolf his features were all coyote, which caused wolves to chase them away when he got too close to whatever territory they decided to pee all over and ‘call their own’. Ew. The next question to fall from the girl’s mouth immediately stole his attention away from his thoughts, brows narrowed as he tasted the idea for a moment. Making a pack? For a moment, the idea seemed possible – if he had his own pack he wouldn’t have to follow any rules but his own. But having followers? It meant he’d actually have to remember faces (and names!) and deal with others on a daily basis. Suddenly, the good idea became revolting and he shook his head as a first response, his frown growing deeper into his maw. “I don’t know anything about leading a pack – I’m positive nobody would even listen to me.” He chuckled in amusement at the thought of having others obey his commands – what a ridiculous concept. This wolf was clearly batshit crazy. “I don’t know what wolf would want to follow under someone with the blood of a coyote.” Clearly the chocolate female didn’t know anything about her own species if she thought that wolves would actually listen to him.