Deepwood Weald I go my own way

Her eyes never left him. There was no flame of hatred, no glint of sarcasm. Just quiet confidence and consideration. Back when she and Serem had so ruthlessly pinned him down in the pit for treatment to his wounds, she had been under Vengeance's command. She was following orders like a good little solider, ensuring their captives be kept alive and useful (to a point). Now that he was dead and with a child in his place, Tzila played by no rules but her own. For her own sake, and that of toying with their minds, she allowed those of the Nightwalkers who ranked above her to think she was still on their team. Many who had wronged this wolf were now gone. Were that enough to satiate his desire for snuffing out their lives, was for him to decide.

She huffed softly, content that he did not press her for her meal. With the skin of the rabbit split at the stomach, she concluded the session and allowed the rest to peel away naturally. Tossing the freed pelt to the side, she dove into the stomach cavity to consume the entrails. Several large bites later, and all that remained of the small animal were a few rib bones and a bloodied stain on the snow. She licked her dark maw again, turning back to the charcoal man. Rising with an unhurried stretch, she approached. There was no swagger in her stride. No predatory intent. Just curiosity, mixed with a dash of caution. Last she had seen him she assumed he had been on his way back to Moonspear. So, was that where he'd been this whole time?