Dawnlark Plains Hinterlands

The melanoid creature, mistrustful of Warbone's strange companion, agreed to the sport of a hunt, and the bronze male lifted his tail assertively, automatically prepared to take point on the event. He turned, ready to advance the small troupe unto the Plains in search of the deer he had been earlier pursuing, but the look on Flora's face stopped him in his tracks. She was glaring at the nameless male, offput by his uncertainty at her presence. Warbone's back rippled in threat. He could be judgemental, but he could not fault the male behind him for being uncertain about her strange breed, and he was minutely miffed that he had thought Flora to be more level-headed that this. She was a representative of himself now, and he would never tolerate a hair-trigger reaction towards those not fond of her looks.

Sensitivity was something he did not covet, and had she reacted with anything other than this look she was giving now, she would have been met with a violent response from her supposed superior. He would not tolerate his wolves reacting riotously to superficial problems; and as the male had not pledged himself as she had, he only felt the need or ability to control one wolf in this scene. "If you cannot put your feelings aside at this moment, then you will not join us," he told her plainly, darkly, and then turned in a half-circle without waiting for a response. She could decide for herself if she could rein in her distasteful emotions or not, and the male too, would decide on his own whether or not he could tolerate her atypical looks.

Warbone beckoned with his tail, delving back into the plains without the assumption that either would follow him.