King Elk Forest born under a bad sign

Not long, he answers with a slow turn, peering blandly at first into the shadows before he realizes that it is a wolf there, seized plainly in his view. He watches the black beast with unwavering attention, neither challenging his presence nor yielding to it. There is only stillness. Only watching. And waiting. He waits to see what the other will do, if he will do anything more, and if it concerns him. Those purple eyes transfix him, lure him, and Killua takes an unwitting step forward, hypnotized by a color he recognizes from his childhood. The skin of a violet...

He still doesn't speak. He just stands there: young, ethereal, and unsure. A fleeting subject. And he just waits.