Blackfeather Woods and he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower

the listener's summon is a command and it is not meant for only him, he notes. so, he thinks. the dark priestess has found her. there is no doubt within him as he makes his way to wolfskull cave where the listener waits near the mouth of where the redhawk woman is kept. his steps slow as he draws nearer, studying her. "listener," he greets her, smoky voice low and respectful; ignoring the captive for as long as he can. ...he can't ignore her forever, however; it's because of her he's been summoned. the tundrian has not gotten over his annoyance at her and gradually it grows to kindling of anger: the cinders that still glow hot, that the slightest stir might ignite into flame.

he played no part in the cause of this; only seeking her out to protect those that have become dear to him. he frets internally, if only because he does not wish for the listener to be angry with him; but knows he deserves it if only because he had not sought her out immediately after.

only then did his glacial gaze settle upon the flame-kissed woman. cold and unyielding as the lands his mother hailed from. wintersbane's posturing of his body is submissive before the dark priestess as if he might appease her ( building ) ire. aside from his greeting though he remains silent. he only knows what the captive's told him but it should be mou that answers for it. it is his fault that the redhawk woman is in their possession in the first place, if the captive's words are to believed.