Haunted Wood Hello, inferior evil beings

the warlord (it still sounds as new and strange in her own mind than it does black hat's) moves through the densite, mind working. serem, tzila, polari, the grunts. those that were not in immediate danger of challenging her, a few she might grow to call allies. vanity is a wild card, at the moment, and valour and black hat remain potential threats, though their motives she has yet to clearly discern. 

and so when she catches the latter's scent does she thread her way toward where he stands, poised, outside of Vengeance's den. she'd been by earlier, if only to confirm it stood as still and empty as it had early, and the day before that. she pauses a short distance away, stance at ease as she speaks, greeting him not as a warlord would some lesser but as a packmate. she is in no hurry to press her authority unless it is warranted, and thus far, it is not. "black hat." a nod, then, indication for him to say his piece.