Totoka River Hold my hand, it's a long way down

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At first she claimed not to have an answer, but then... she revealed as honestly as she could, that she had been drawn in like the tide, unable to curb her interest as she might have with another. He would admit that he had assumed this of her— that she would sooner use her teeth before greeting someone levelly— and he remembered his surprise from minutes ago, when she had first decided to lure the basilisk to her riverbank. Grievous could not deny either, that he was a willing insect to this Venus flytrap, although he felt more in control of the situation despite the way the dynamic could seem to another. She loomed before him as tall as her height would allow, and the wolf, who fancies himself a king, sees the fashioning of a young queen in her— one he might could groom to his powerful preferences.

She is no where near old enough to be of any particular use to him— with his ideology of a misanthropic cur— but he wanted quite plainly to feed her his ambition. Hoping, that in doing so, she would battle any woman to take his side, when the time became appropriate. But his ideas were farfetched and reaching further, going well beyond this tentative interest they held in one another for now. “Our kind,” he mused, rising very suddenly to his feet in a motion that seemed too fast for a man of his size and stature; “are drawn only towards those we deem as worthy packmates. Wolves such as we doth not care for the weak.”

He was looking down at her now, his posture dominant but non-threatening. He turned away from her, still unafraid to expose himself to attack; though it was difficult to tell if this was out of confidence, or just reckless casualty. He seemed to want to depart from her, but he turned his head over his shoulder, and looked her directly in the eye. “There be no glory, or true challenge in solitude. Do thy choose strength and daring... or detachment and cowardice?”

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