Deepwood Weald I go my own way

The wet crunching of her work filled the grove with a macabre sort of melody. Along with the strong smell of blood, anyone else might have been turned off altogether or found offense enough to leave. Revui did not know why he lingered. If not for the spoils of her hunt, then perhaps for company; but that was nonsensical considering their history. Perhaps it was his physical maturity leading him to linger - this sense that he was male, she was female, for whatever that was worth. Nothing was enticing about Tzila save for the blood she now licked clean from her muzzle; or so he thought in the moment.

When she finished, she rose and tread towards him. He lifted his head back to its naturally confident posture and felt a ripple of energy along his spine - the darkest edge of his coat raising, while he subtly adjusted his posture to something a little more defensive. Considering their last interaction had him pinned to the dirt against his will, he had to be on his guard. But the closer she got the more she gave away: notably, her abandonment of the Nightwalkers. The absence of Vengeance's scent was somewhat telling, at least. She had either chosen to abandon the group or someone had taken out the warrior leading them.

A pity. He had hoped to do so himself.