Barrow Fields What Do You Want From Me?

So the stench does have a name. How fitting.

Her gaze scanned over the male, ice normally burning to pelts of those she meets, but clearly, this man was different. If her gaze even made it past the layers of mud and blood was unknown to her. How interesting. Vengeance. She tested the name on her lips.

"I come here often, but alone. You are an anomaly."

Alone. Maybe they were similar in some ways...you know. Once you got past his disgusting appearance. And he dared call her an anomaly, yet he wasn't wrong. She was no normal wolf. Alison. Alice is fine, but call me Ali and I'll rip your tongue out.