Ravensblood Forest drop me in the water; try to make me clean

The voice stirred the ebony wolf’s gaze upward, studying the wolf as he approached. Pale in hue, the wolf was slender in build – a cream mask painted upon his face. His word stirred a lazy smirk upon the tainted shadow runner’s lips, his fiery eyes sweeping back to his task, though not ignoring the stranger. He did not scent of the pack Grayday hailed from – and so he was intrigued by where this conversation would lead to. “They’re of little concern to us as we are to them,” he responded, his own tone a stoical rumble.
 
He and the other pack’s leader already came to a brief agreement – though he did not feel the need to mention this to a wolf he didn’t know. “Constantine,” he introduced, deciding to jump straight to it. “You are?”