Whitefish River radioactive

While he preferred to keep to himself and not speak to anyone, the spider-legged hybrid could never turn down a conversation with a female. If they had not already crossed paths, Styx would never actively seek out another wolf – he would only ever succumb to conversation when he was (unwillingly) forced into it. Short and sweet: that’s what he preferred. If they were too long they led to the sharing of names and life stories and ugh. No thank-you! Styx did not want friends, nor did he need them. He was just fine and dandy being on his own – there was no reliance on others, no drama, nothing. It was marvellous. The response that came from the strange, agouti female caused a smile to crack across his lips as he seafoam gaze remained on her slender frame. Well, at least she had a sense of humour – that would make this meeting somewhat bearable. “Maybe next time I’ll join you,” he joked with a cocked brow as he allowed his gaze to waiver, studying the meandering body of water behind her. Perhaps when they parted ways he would take a bath of his own… “My name is Spine…” Ugh, here we go – introductions. Gross! Holding back a roll of his eyes, the mutt drew his attention back to the yellow-eyed female. “I’m Styx.” Was it time for him to leave yet?