Haunted Wood The voice of rage and ruin.

She moved more like a catamount than a wolf, which he detested, but it did not frighten him any more than anything else in these hellish woods. He had defeated cats before, and bears, and anything else thrown in to his path; one day he would rip the throat out of this bitch too and savour the taste, but that was not going to happen anytime soon. Not unless she forced it out of him—it would not take much goading for Revui to lose what limited cool he carried.

The tone of her voice was grating. It was like she was asking for something, or trying to tempt something out of him—a childish game he had never been subjected to growing up. His games were rough; they were hard and they contained lessons for the future, not manipulation. The closer she got and the more she spoke, the shorter his patience became.

He watched her, skeptical of this closeness and this feigned intimacy. Her face came so close to his—he could smell her breath, see the shine of light catch on her teeth as she spoke, and his entire body tensed with the desire to attack, attack, attack. [i]What was it, precisely, that compelled you to trespass--? A low rumble cuts from his core, scything through the rest of her query.

Although he isn't willing to give up any space to her (such weakness could not be tolerated) he pulls back from her with a sneer. The ground shook. The forest looked.. safe. I was hungry, alone. And really what did it matter how he came to be here? He was here now, out of the pit and of higher rank than most of his captors. Everything was working out now that he was free.