Hideaway Strath old gods still prowl among the thickets

the intellectual approach did very little to persuade the wildcat. he was hunched over with jagged furs standing like vicious spikes along his shoulders and back. his lightless yellow gaze searched for any sign of weakness from the man who was across from him. there was nothing that would stop him from acting out if that was what he wished. the words that came from the stranger were posed as though they should have inspired some deeper thought inside of the razorback cur. instead, he furrowed his brow at the other and snorted into the snow at his paws. he had not taken the words to be those of the wise, but instead seemed to match the tone of someone talking down to another. tusk was not the sort to simply take what was said to him. he drew his crown upward and fixed his lightless yellow gaze on the other male with a curling lip and a cant of his skull.

“i know well enough of pity to know that i'm in no need of it,” he remarked with a daring expression. he did not need it from the seasons or from the stranger in front of him. it wasn't a matter of pride as much as it was a matter of independence. tusk had done well enough on his own for that long – he did not know much about the others in the area. the wolf tulimaq had said that they were weaker than he would have liked. he spoke as though they had abandoned the beast within them a long time ago. the wildcat had only met one other who seemed to suit the life of a loner as well as he had. other than the mountaineer, there had been no others. perhaps the wolf had been right... there was little beast left in the wolves of that area.

with a calculating stare, tusk eyed the features of the stranger. “what is it that you want?” the cur then demanded with a gritted jaw.