Bearclaw Valley So you say I'm complicated

i was told she likely still smells a bit of bfw, so rollin’ with that !!

That she corrected her posture only for him had the male flashing his incisors, briefly, issuing the most obvious of warnings; these wolves were members of his pack, superior to those that had no home to call their own, and he felt that simple fact should be respected. He might have gone so far as to comment verbally on the issue if not for her response—he was given a name, yet that was not what stood out to him. The second he heard flatlands, the male strode forward and drew in a long, deep breath, the fine traces of the woods invading his nostrils. Alexander’s entire body stiffened immediately and his tail stood up straight, perpendicular to his back. His lips curled back to reveal the canines shielded behind them, his previous warning morphing into a threat as he growled out the location of where his life was both saved and then taken—

“Blackfeather.”

Whilst there came a voice from the depths of his mind insisting that he attack, the albino held his ground instead, staring the girl down through narrowed eyes; it was not mercy that held him back but that the woods themselves were not necessarily to blame, but a man within them. He did not blame the pack as a whole—how could he when his own father lived there?—for the crime committed against him, but he was rightfully cautious and suspicious of those that hailed from the shadows. “Why are you here?” he asked, voice low and lilted with a snarl. “Answer carefully.” Was this girl sent by Cicero—did her being there mean that the beast was near? Alexander did not doubt his ability to end the patchwork male, did not believe he would ever fall victim to him again, but that did not mean facing him would be any easier.