Emberwood seeking empty whispers

She ignored most of what transpired after her comment; it didn't matter to her one way or the other, so long as teeth weren't involved. Stryx was too tired from her latest exploits to be concerned about how she'd come across. Her goal was to be useful, that didn't require that she be liked.

The hungry young man looked healthy otherwise. Broad-shouldered, ragged, but otherwise healthy enough. He had made it this far but Stryx doubted he could hunt on his own in his current state—a sentiment that the scruffy brown wolf mirrored. 

As Evien began to give his orders, Stryx tuned him out.
Men. Always have to have the last word.

He pointed out the obvious as he passed her: the blood was mostly gone from her coat but not enough of it, and there was a green tinge to the fur where she had tried to wash herself after the soak in the pond. The mixture wasn't the most appetizing thing in the world. Stryx chose not to battle with the boy over it.

His hunt for water wouldn't take long if she deigned to help, but Stryx was less and less inclined to do so now that she'd been ordered about in such a manner; but she thought of the weaker of the duo, and offered up one tidbit: There's a brook further north.

No urging to have them follow, no herding of their bodies, just a turn of her heel and she was striding purposefully back the way she had come at a pace that accommodated Kukulkan.