The woman reminded him of the pale girl he had met only hours previous - pale and shining despite the murk of the forest, and with eyes as bright as the hot sun. This wolf was indeed more imposing than Bazi, and Tiarnan was not taken in by the newness of her features. He was not charmed by her the way he was by the phantasm-girl; growing stiff-legged and resistant even with the forest sitting idle around him. Tiarnan tried to relax but it was difficult, even with the faith he placed within his parent's gods; they were not his gods, not yet. He did not pray to the witch his mother followed nor the river god of his father. One day Tiarnan would have to make a choice and follow his own path, but that was not today.
Today he was only trying to get out of this situation without harm. If it meant praying to the Jotun woman before him, so be it. And it had worked. Idly, the youth slid in to a seated position and assumed a more submissive posture, his ears jutting out on either side of his black-marked head, and his dark eyes trailing across the ice woman's stout limbs and black toes. Despite his physical agreement to her prowess, to her dominance, there was a shine in his dark eyes which would not be abated; a candle light that would not be snuffed out just yet.