Ravensblood Forest the long rain

The fur along his neck rose upwards stiffly while the stranger finished her inspection of his chassis. When she had concluded her once-over, she returned to peer curiously at his face. Dark eyes followed her movements without an adjustment to his demeanor. It did not take long for words to fall breathlessly from her lips. Death, she called him. His brows furrowing tightly over his dark eyes, Skellige curled his lip upward to flash a vile yellow fang at the she wolf. His breath was foul as it left his lips. She was requesting his companionship through the rain and furthermore for a hunt. The lands were barren of most prey; the silver-ribbed Cairn did not understand how she could have expected to catch anything.
 
“Do not offend me,” he growled in a guttural baritone, “by comparing me to death.” Flicking his ears backwards to fall against his skull. “I need shelter. If you should stay, then so be it.” Her actions would not dictate his. And the hulking wraith did not care if his words would sting her.