The Bracken Woods Apathy

Absolutely!

Prey had no specific sound to the swain. A chuff drew his attention sharply, and the wolf's entire body swung towards her, powerful and targeting, instantly prepared to throw himself into a hungry, violent pursuit. Instead of food, however, he met the stormy eyes of a she-wolf. The stately raven that had addressed him. His tail arced in a slow swing, curious but distracted. Unless she wanted to fight, he had little time to beget idle conversation on an empty stomach.

His muzzle turned away, eager to resume what he had been doing, but then his chilled face turned once more and he eyed the black Amazonian with a critical and lusterless gaze. She was long of leg and solid of body, with bladed fur, a hawkish gaze, and a darkness to her that was not just in her coat. A single snort seemed to affirm a question he had silently asked himself, and then he spoke, his voice a deep and like a provocative fire—Burning. "Hunt with me," a question with no inflection, an attempt to goad the onyx dryad into a temporary relationship that would better his chance of survival.

A tactic on his end, and nothing more.