Barrow Fields Barracuda

She turned on him, fur standing on end and teeth bared in violence. Warbone drew to a stop, pulling his ears back, but keeping the affront from his stony features. Instead, he steadily watched her every move— her every shadowy feature. "He might return," he said flatly, and then before she could object: "and I do not want to be alone." He was not loathe to admit that he felt this, and it was true in part, as he was not yet invested enough to tell her that he was interested in her. He anticipated that she would say that she wanted to be left alone (or at least think it), so he blinked once, very slowly, and added: "why do you want to be alone?" regardless of if she'd said anything at all at this point.

It was the nature of wolves to want company. Even a monster like him craved it at times. But just as she was reacting often ended most of his interactions with others. His tail twitched, and he pressed his ears forwards slightly. "You surprised me. And I automatically mistook you for kin of the wolf who tried to steal from me." It was unspoken law that you did not seek to steal from a perpetually starving lone wolf. Not unless you had backup. It explained the foreign blood on him, but he imagined that this did not save him from the haughty exit of the ebony creature before him. "I did not mean to discourage your presence by my paranoia."