Shadewood but you wear blood well for one so gentle

the razorback's steps slow as he come across a couple of criss-crossing scents: those of small woodland creatures. a far cry from the aggressive wildboars he was used to hunting with the chaotic and vying personalities of those who called the plains their home. safer as far as hunting goes, he admits to himself with a small, near inaudible snort. at least failure hunting one of those did not mean certain death by gutting of sharpened husk. an incident far more common that made unatak, in moments where loyalty to the chaotic pack with its unstable leadership became a two-way mirror to see the insidious roots of what lay beneath, wonder why it was even worth it. given the distance he's put between himself and razorback plains the clarity did not fade back to a mirror as it always had prior.

thoughts dispel at the sound of dried leaves whispering across the woodland floor, the crunch of those that have not entirely decomposed under foot lighter than his own. jackolantern aglow gaze falls in the direction of the other; a woman of pale fur that would easily camouflage her in the thick of snows with a gaze of cut emeralds. pretty; in a way that is almost exotic he settles upon of first impression.

❝ma'am.❞ unatak greets her with a dip of his head as a cowboy of olden might tip his hat in greeting.