Two Rivers Isle if i killed someone for you

Cry had heard Issun prior to the approach, ears travelling and translating weight, gait, and pace as he kept his eyes on Gwen while she hunted for the trail again. However, once the unknown joiner came close enough to cause concern, the Assassin was forced to pull his vision from his Keyholder, and follow the path his auds directed him to. Body halted as he processed this new face, body, and position of the Arriven.

A body of charred slate, heightened and toughened by battle and wit alike. The Guardian noticed the chopped tail, a banner that wove a careful but friendly flag of harmed-but-harmless image. The pelt has been well groomed, grown full to face the winter, but it showed aplenty of hardships this brute had come across. Cry knew scars well; he had a patchwork of crisscross scars reflecting his own survival against his own past glinting through the ebony hide in coal colored tissue. He knew them, they were a language he spoke, and he read exactly how this newcomer handled themself in battle. 
Well.

Glacial irises scanted across the rest of this wolf until they landed over an alert face, a chiseled and healthy male who’s silver gems were only just tinted a fresh verde. It was nearly imperceptible, but with the instinct to memorize every ounce of every potential target, it was a gift Cry was both blessed and cursed with. Once he got Issun’s name, he would be sealed in the dark titan’s memory for all eternity.

Remaining where he was, Cry kept himself casual but aware, his own midnight flag flacid until it was appropriate to wave it back. It was only appropriate when Gwen decided to speak to the joining lupine that he did so. Athletic and honed body stayed still, patient, letting calm consume him. He would let his Empress talk to whoever this was. She would be the voice, while he would be the muscle, should the gentle fae need it.

He returned her glance, his own gaze reading into hers. While he trusted her with his own life, he didn’t know who this individual was, nor their skill in hunting. Was this something they should be doing? Logic cascaded his worry into easily sortable stations and folders, the most recognizable and relatable one being how much wolfpower and strategy it took to even take down a wounded elk. They would need this guy to make this easier for themselves, and more successful. So he did not protest as she discerned him.