Firefly Glen dark wings, dark words

"Fair enough," Goodnight acknowledged with a wag of his tail. He hadn't expected her to give him anything at all, let alone offer an exchange. He couldn't say what information he might have that would be of worth to the shadowy matriarch, but the wolf was grateful not to be immediately shut down.

"I'm distantly aware of two packs, but I don't believe either of them was yours." He imagined that he would recognize her scent if he had crossed it, though in truth he was beginning to think this entire area smelled of her, now that he could identify it. "Your pack is either well hidden or—" Goodnight paused sharply, and turned his head to catch another dark spill in his peripheral. "—not among these wooded territories."

If he were a more easily confused soul he might have considered that he was hallucinating. Seeing this she-wolf in places she couldn't possibly be... but as things were, he recognized that the second shade must be a packmate, if not a relative, which would explain the scent of them permeating this area like a fog. He turned back to Hydra, as she spoke her name, and settled in the knowledge that he was outnumbered and possibly outclassed. It might've agitated him, was he not already of the mind that his status as a loner placed him at a distinct disadvantage to her primed ilk.

At her question, he gave his muzzle a small shake. "Nothing, truth be told," he mused. "But I imagine this might be a decent place to end my tourney as a bachelor. I was here several moons prior, and found these lands almost eerily barren, so I moved on. I was only passing through again by chance when I noticed the prey seemed to be flourishing and the packs in this area had not migrated. I took it as a sign to hang around for a bit." He fell quiet afterwards — instead of making it his turn to ask something — and waited to see if she wanted to know more of him, or would volunteer anything else without prompting.