Haunted Wood The voice of rage and ruin.

One slender, dark foreleg was placed out of the darkness and into the light. Her icy stare held his fast, accepting of his challenge. "You've recovered well." She appraised. Her eyes slid over his form, notably his ribs. They both knew what she was thinking. He needed more meat on his bones and they both knew it. Tzila was accustomed to his voluntary silence, which was fine by her. She could interpret another’s intentions just as easily by body language alone.

And she knew what she saw. Pent up rage. Hunger. The cold desire to render flesh from bone. She knew that look all too well. It didn't stop her from emerging out of her shadows, towards him. As she closed the gap with measured steps, she drew her head up comfortably. Though her movements were loose, it was all an act. Should he have a go at her, she would be ready. Unlike last time, as she inched in close, a breath away from his muzzle, she was not all snarly and scarlet hackles. "There is something that has been tickling my mind for some time now..." She began, her tone no longer laced with that bloated self arrogance. "What was it, precisely, that compelled you to trespass on our lands?"