Blackfoot Forest rippling out through his past and future

he doesn't mean to surprise the sun-bright male ...but intentional or not wintersbane does surprise him and his chuff is answered by an instinctual snarl. it is answered by a quieted growl that rumbles deep within the soturi's chest. a warning sound he might use on a child that bites a little too hard, or becomes overly rambunctious. ...though he would back up the warning with force if the situation called for it. though, he does not think it will come to that. at least, at the moment. the frosted hairs at the nape of his neck bristle following his own instinct, though it lacks the certain aggression it would've once held. with age comes wisdom ...and apparently in the tundrian's case: a dampen on his natural hostility and aggression.

winterbane's suspicion is proven right when the other's posture shifts and an apology breaks the verbal silence held between them. bro? "you don't have to apologize," the tundrian brushes it away. he understands as well as anyone that it's dog eats dog ...and frankly, no one was bound to hear him apologizing for acting as nature and instinct intended. the soturi peers past the other male then to look at the toadstool that had evidently been the golden stranger's interest upon winterbane's arrival. "i'm no botanist but i'd stay clear of that. looks like it might be poisonous." the only poison he's familiar with is hemlock ( ironic if only because it was his step-mother's name ) but only because it guards his mother's grave. still, he instinctually wants to stay away from the otherwise inoffensive toadstool and wintersbane has always been one to trust his instincts.