Moonspear confident

You're fine!!

There is another scent, close by, but he thinks nothing of it; there are always one or two Moonspear wolves lingering in the near distance at any given time. It makes him feel at ease more than anything; should he be taken unawares by an enemy, this family band of wolves will be quick to defend him. . .right? After all, he has sworn allegiance to their ranks; he expects nothing less of them. He is one of them, now.

Hydra's question broadens his smile, and he purses his lips for a moment in silent thought, contemplating his response. His eyes drift upward, to the summit. "How can one not be drawn to the highest peaks?" Llewellyn responds, still gazing toward the sky. "They are beauty and ferocity all at once. Nothing less would have suited me."

He looks at the woman again. "Were you drawn here, too, or born onto the slope?" the prince asks. His gaze narrows the slightest degree, as if studying her carefully. "Judging by your own beauty and ferocity, I think you must have been born here." His eyes soften again, a smile that could have been described as devilish had it belonged to a crueler mouth.

But Llewellyn is neither devilish nor cruel. He was raised to be courtly, honest, sincere. Even if he is a trifle--more than that, surely--bull-headed and cold, his heart is, altogether, good. Hydra will not find a schemer in this man; she will have to make do with a warrior, instead.