Permafrost Hollows radioactive

Nostrils flare with a bullish snort, unable to hide the lingering hint of amusement that twitched gruesomely across his lips—ugly, dark. Pale gold eyes sweep pass the serpent, taking in the shadows and pawprints. Alone they are, her sass and strike of confidence bring the tease of defiance yet it works well enough for Kratos.
Hm, he voices in vague confirmation, one of them. Smug pride swells in his chest—the first of many to come seeking a roof over their head. Much easier when they flock towards them than trying to sway words and recruit that way. He decides he likes her, if only for that. Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, and what you’ve got to offer us. He prompts, poking for more information despite already deciding that she would be taken to Zephyr. Kratos already approving.