King Elk Forest to spend, spend all i've got

He's never too far from Grayson at any given time — after all, he'd followed the man all this way. It'd do no good to lose him now, in a snowstorm or to some other predator, so he sticks close. He prefers his own company in the end, though, and he's indulging in just that when a faint, feminine voice catches his attention through the trees. He only catches snippets of what is being said, a sir here and a hate to intrude there — nothing exciting, but he's bored enough to follow the sound.
He chuffs to his friend as he comes into view, gaze flitting dismissively over the strange woman. A pretty little thing by most anyone's standards — he is not most anyone. More interesting to him is the lack of pack scent on the little fool — arrogant, he thinks, and stupid. The urge to say as much strikes him fiercely and suddenly, but he bites his tongue, glancing briefly to Grayson the way one might look with helpless amusement to the sole other adult witnessing some ignorant childish shenanigans. He's more than content to let his friend do the talking; he finds he has little to say to women these days.