Moonspear When darkness speaks, it changes everything.

Truthfully, Dacio did not think their most recent attack to have been premeditated. It'd been several long months since Vercingetorix' murder, since the coywolf admitted to hunting for the natrona's offspring. The world had been quiet through Winter without the threat of her lurking, but he knew better than to think her gone for much longer.

A thorn in his side, it seemed, and he gritted his teeth to keep from snarling at the memory of the coroner's hideous, sneering face.

Hydra requested more information from him, and he began confidently. "Black fur, dark blue eyes," or... were they? He hesitated, "I think." Seeing the colour of the assaulting wolfess' irises had not been too high on his list of priorities. He lowered his pastel gaze, looked at the raw puncture wounds that marred his elbow. Dacio wasn't sure how to answer regarding her skill and defense, though made attempt at sharing what he thought: "she could fight, but I don't know if I'd consider her trained. She likely thought your son was there alone, seemed surprised when I approached." Her bite had been firm, perhaps fearful, in her attempt to remove Dacio's hold for a quick escape.