Shadow Mountain Night Cafe for lonely cynics

oho — a dry barb. ”i shall do my best not to be seen by our prey,” mahler quickly rejoined, eyes glinting with amusement in the woman’s direction. it was not a tone he would have tolerated from anyone, but the she-wolf had set herself apart already.
”ja. it drove us from the lake down into the fox hollow,” he answered, solemn once more. ”the herds seem to have left the mountains altogether.” it was the way of their kind to become feral, nomadic; in the weeks to come, perhaps mahler would push for such.