Blackfoot Forest The foes of the righteous will be damned

Pallas had not expected her newfound station to be challenged so quickly, yet all the same the snarl that punctuated the air needed addressing, and quickly. Kierkegaard had only just fed her -- a hungry Pallas was a dangerous one -- but a fully fed Pallas was downright murderous. In truth she might not have been so prompt in addressing this pacing wolf if she had not just been fed; as far as she was concerned, Kierkegaard had held his end of the bargain.

One wouldn't have guessed Pallas' intentions were violent, the way she carefully picked herself down the slope towards Liri at a casual walk. In many ways, she looked downright harmless save for the wild lick of her unruly hair. Even her expression seemed bland and devoid of threat as her gaze fell on the wolf, sizing it up. Petite. Narrow. Svelte figurine. Distinct lack of visible scars save for a nicked ear.

Pallas' hazel eyes lacked the warmth Liri's did as she stopped in front of the wolf, her form beguiling. "What are you doing, friend?" She inquired, a neutral wave of her tail given. Liri was clearly agitated, and Pallas had a decent enough idea the reason why. But first, she would play a long game, sussing out what little information she could from the sprite.