flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]
Even if she weren’t to admit it, his assumptions of her were actually quite spot on. Having learned to show little to no emotion, she fought within herself more often than not. Feelings raged inside of her and the only way she was able to really let them out was to try to run from herself with absolute reckless abandon. It really was like she was on a self-destructive mission during those times because, honestly, she cared little of what happened to her, where she went or where she ended up. Just like right now. But being Tartok, she didn’t want to be viewed as weak in the pack. She’d had her share of being the weak one within Tartok, but that was from years ago. She’d fought hard both within herself and without to rise to what she was now. If only she could completely shut off her emotions.
The large woman tilted her head slightly to the side when he asked her if she was hungry. One day she would learn to expect the unexpected, because this was definitely something she had not expected. On the other hand… “After having been running nearly all day,” she began to answer, still studying the male. “I’m famished.” She would definitely not pass up the chance at a meal, especially if it was a meal that she wouldn’t have to catch entirely on her own. “Have something in mind?”