Silver Creek strange, the way it felt like home - to wander through the dark alone

It seemed as though the woman had made herself into a guardian of the terrain. That meant little, in the grand scheme of things. For all the growling and fussing over what he was doing, they both would have been better off if she had just allowed him to slip past her and carry on his way. As rugged and unsightly as he might have appeared, Sojourn was nothing more than a passerby; he aimed only for his next stretch of land and found that nothing else was enough to hold him down. There was no intention of staying on or near her prospective home.

So, the inky crow continued on his lean-limb prowl. The blades of his shoulders seemed to roll with his gait, but he did not slow his pace and he did not counter her growl with one of his own. Instead, he seemed to move like a dark wraith across the stretch of terrain. His eyes did not vacate from her dark features. He wanted to make sure that he would not be surprised by an attack that could jeopardize his movement onward. Instead, he dipped his muzzle in a peculiar sort of greeting – a 'hello' without words – to smooth the ruffled edges.

Nothing about the Rosings lifestyle would have fit the rangy figure. Sojourn had no interest in limiting women to inflate his own ego. He had less interest in the types of women who agreed with that particular lifestyle. To say that he was a predator, stalking their women, was something of a laughable thought. It was best that it wasn't shared between them.