Deepwood Weald I go my own way

Until one truly got to know who Tzila was, down at her core, interacting with her was like a game of chance. She enjoyed keeping others on their toes, always guessing. Wondering whether or not if she, in a sudden turn, would go for the throat. She used this tactic purposefully, for she knew psychologically, it could befuddle her opponent. However, there were those of the variety who were not put off such an unpredictable nature. They, she respected more than others. Looking inward, at times even Tzila didn't know who she truly was.

She half expected him to recoil, to lash out with bared fangs ready to seek out her flesh. But he didn't. Only tensed up, made clear by his body language and the twitch of muscle beneath his coat. Her eye caught this, and she slowed her steps even further. Conveying without words, that she was not interested in a physical altercation. To confirm her curiosity, she reached out and let her nose glide along the outermost hairs of his coat, absorbing the scents there. Then finally, turning her head away, she spoke. "Nightwalkers is not what it once was. Vengeance is gone. Dead."