Dawnlark Plains daybreak

Buchanan's mercurial silver gaze analyzed her approach. Her silhouette was visible to him, easier to spot her when she moved as opposed to when she stood still. There was a good bit of personal space between them, which the dark wraith appreciated, though there was tension in his shoulders that did not dissipate. Her “hello” was not a greeting. In fact, it really wasn't anything. It sounded disinterested to the Marauder, as if she did not care either way whether he answered or not. So why speak to him at all then? As he was not the most sociable of creatures he did not spend too much time puzzling this out. The assassin let out a soft huff, turning to face her on full, keeping her in his sharp and intense gaze, his muzzle lifting into the air slightly. “chto ty khochesh” The assassin asked her simply in his native tongue, not knowing if she spoke Russian or not. “What do you want?” He repeated in the common tongue, in case she was not fluent in Russian. Admittedly, Buchanan had yet to meet a wolf that was but he kept trying, just in case. He did not turn a deaf ear to the herd's grazing somewhere nearby, instead kept an ear flickering in their direction. When he was done here he intended to watch them for a while because information of their herding pattern was at least better than nothing.