Silver Creek let's kill someone

under that frowning lip of stone iliksis received grayson's edict, enduring the confidence of the brute's words with a sort of strangely twisted smile.  it ghosted on his lips malign as a spectre -- and then it too seemed to melt away.

grayson's decree was -- of course -- wrong.. but iliksis would not suffer to tell him that so coarsely. the wraith had been in the teekons nearly a year -- and had already endured winter's harsh bite the year before. perhaps it was the coyote blood in him, thin but obstinate, that made him ignore the biological alarm that would possess a lone wolf found at the edge of winter's descent.

iliksis was unafraid of the cold, for the same reason he was unafraid of the change of seasons. cold was never absolute; it was never unending. eventually, the frost broke -- eventually, dawn always came.

"i did not die last winter." he braved as the wind picked up around them, shifting columns of rolling fog. iliksis caught grayson's full scent then, detracting from the many odors the male was not alone. of course not.

but he was, and he would have to play carefully. "am i intruding?"