The Bracken Woods Apathy

He would hold her to her word, as he would hold any wolf, and Warbone tipped his muzzle in affirmation to the newly introduced Thuringwethil, commander of Drageda. Her title roused him, and he shifted into a more attentive posture, his eyes flashing in a knowing sheen. The wolf was not in the least bit surprised as she finally spoke it. "Warbone," he introduced. "A title similarly earned from the place of my birth."

The earthy colossus licked his stained jaws, eyeing her in barely contained mirth. She was fathomless and yet entirely present— a myth among mortals. Irritatingly, he had the Freudian thought that she reminded him of his dragon-worshipping mother. The only true goddess he had ever seen. "I will seek you," he said, suddenly unwilling to let the enigma do her typical shadowy exit. He would not watch her melt away, leaving only a tingling afterthought...

She would watch him.

Warbone abruptly looked to the north, and took a few long, ponderous steps in that direction before pausing to look over his shoulder at the panther queen. "As the days warm, know I am nearing." He had started trotting away again before his ominous sentence had finished, and he didn't look back as he began his scouting venture of The Wilds.