Blackfeather Woods It was real and I repent

Cool it. He roughly whispers at her bristled form. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. His own hackles bristled slightly as his tail flicked. He had no idea if she could speak or what her overall condition was. Hell, he was half surprised that she was even awake — that no one had bothered to keep drugging her.

He would have but he assumed her well-being was not his concern. She would wilt or thrive and he would still be himself regardless of the outcome.

His nostrils flared as he basked in her scent. His acid washed eyes roaming over her form. Kaglanov does not have a previous vision of her. He has always known her as tattered from the moment she arrived in his life. Yet he has a feeling that she would look better had fate not led her like a tamed horse to this moment. Are you at least comfortable where you hold up? With the flat tones of his words, it is hard to tell if he is genuinely interested or not.