The Heartwood who doesn't say a word,

The spider-legged hybrid wanted to get away – the words falling from her cherry tongue were poison, causing the inky knight to temporarily forget his beliefs. And for what? A pack? The idea of having others listen to his every word and obey whatever rules he set in place was appealing, but Styx was positive it wasn’t for him. The life of a nomad was far more attractive – if he didn’t want to be around others he didn’t have to, and he could remain that way for days. Even the idea of being in the company of more than one wolf was suffocating; the idea was absolutely revolting. With a frown pressed deep into his maw Styx cocked a pointed ear toward the silver-eyed female once more as she spoke, her words taunting the lanky yearling into swaying his beliefs. This wolf – the nameless beauty who was still a complete stranger – wanted to lead beside him? Now Constanin definitely knew she was insane; they could hardly stand each other but she had offered her aid to him? Perhaps this was a trap… there had to be some sort of ‘catch’ to this. No stranger would offer to help another, especially when they had not even properly introduced themselves to each other. “You would help me?” He mused aloud, tasting the idea as he broke the silence with his cool, detached tone. “What’s in it for you?” Clearly she wasn’t in it for mateship (Styx couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or not to hear this), so why was she so keen in helping him? Nobody was that nice.