Silverlight Terrace the devil has the power to assume a pleasing shape

Ramsay, on the other hand, paid almost no heed to his surroundings as he went along. He didn't have the time or interest to spare for the way the grass was brushed silver in the moon's rays, or the fog that uncoiled just over the roiling ground. He had his head down in an awkward fold and his eyes focused intently in front of him as he tracked a wild rat, sparing no attention for what was around him.

That is, until the heavy scent of wolf intermingled with his trail and he was forced to stand straight. It took him a moment to locate the dark-haired stranger in the mist, but when Ramsay did, he made the split second decision to make himself known. There were more than just rat trails here on the terrace and he thirsted for better prey than rodents. One of two things would happen when Ailill saw him, he knew, and he was always prepared for the worst of those, so it wouldn't take him by surprise if it did.

Hungry? he asked simply, pressing his ears invitingly to the sides.