Shadewood Half of him an angel, the other death

Though he felt the she-wolf join him through the pull and rattle of the body he dug into, Darcia remained unconcerned with her presence as he ate his fill. As far as he was concerned, there was plenty for the both of them, and despite the absence of recognition between them, he wasn't inclined to waste his energy chasing her off. She had helped to some degree, as well, which further entitled her to a share he might not have given otherwise.

After a small feast, Darcia retracted from the kill, his forehalf deeply stained and his mouth still slick with clinging innards. He was still hungry, and could have eaten pounds more, but he was careful not to gorge himself, lest this meeting with the stranger turned violent. He didn't want to be weighed down by an over-full belly and the mistake of eating too much when the queen-colossus lingered so near. He watched her fully now, able to take in more of her than he'd bothered to before, and when she spoke, he tilted his head slightly kept his expression even.

"Well met, stranger. Thy certainly made the task easier," he replied, licking his chops and reclining neatly unto his haunches in a glaring show of unconcern for the unspoken threat to his kinghood that she presented. Though she clearly had the capacity to be victorious in a fight, she hadn't made a single threat to him, and Darcia was inclined to take wolves at face value— confident as he was to hold his own against any menace thrown his way. "I am Darcia," he told her then without invitation. "What may I call you?"