Blacktail Deer Plateau this divine right to genocide

He knew not of the names that she spoke of, though he would attempt to remember them all the same. More pressing was the concept that Rusalka had been through it's own trials, ever exchanging hands until it simply did not, and he delighted in the prospect of it being an ever evolving sort of group. It was his way of life, though he did not make note of such or consider it; he was not an ambitious creature without reason. He thought Raleska had potential, but he had not made much of an opinion of Aningan yet.

Not that there was a plethora of time to do so—Erzulie turned back to the hunt and so he followed her actions and gathered his thoughts in the beats of silence that came. A new prospect snaked its way up, and he wondered aloud with the lift of his muzzle once more: "Do you think you could do better? You seem an able sort." It was spoken tentative and gentle; a fool would miss that she may have had a fiery streak beneath the blush of her coat, and he did not seek to find how sharp her teeth were.

He expected the negative nevertheless—he knew such could paint him as having flimsy allegiances, but the world was not a gentle place. If someone had a better idea of how to survive, then what options did he—or any of them—have?