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She spoke softly – soothing the wolf as she tended to him, and Scimitar lingered nearby with a wariness. His eyes would drift to Pasha every so often, and at the mention the woman was trained with the ways of the soturi, he allowed his eyes to linger further upon her ward, reassuring himself the greyscale man would do his savior no harm.
 
It was unorthodox – even more so that Scimitar had allowed either to remain upon his borders, but his heart wrenched once more at the thought of his own recently lost son – whether it called to his compassion or to his despair, he could not dissect the emotions.
 
He remained quiet for now, awaiting direction – his bright eyes focused upon the two.