Felltree Marsh Unjaded

At the suggestion that she might be "interrupting," Warbone's mouth twitched into the ghost of a clandestine smile. He thought maybe she was making a joke (even though she wasn't)— considering that anything he might've called a life had been lost to him through unforeseeable circumstance— but he found only amusement, not resentment, in the truth that was his copious amount of unoccupied time. "Of course not," he affirmed, beginning to move in a direction parallel to the Keep, so she wouldn't feel as if he were trying to lead her away from it; though he did maintain her on his right side, so that he wouldn't be blind to her should her civility wear thin. He kept his stride easy, so as to accommodate the length of the cocoa she-wolf's legs.

He tried not to glance at her too often as they went, but he was inherently interested in a member of a pack he no longer owned but coveted. "I am Warbone," he told her at length. "Though I suspect you knew this." There then begged the question as to why she was treating him so cordially, but he wasn't particularly interested in knowing this reason. He wasn't sure if it even meant anything. "You and your pack have nothing to fear from me, truly. Though it seems you know that too."