Ravensblood Forest Wer um die Göttin freit, suche in ihr nicht das Weib

The woman seems calmly suspicious of him and that’s good. He expects nothing less of a seasoned warrior and if she is no warrior, it matters not. The female is intelligent enough to be wary of him. Though even when he’s being rather hospitable, the male is always ready to stain his teeth crimson if he’s provoked. For now, doesn’t believe the ashen wolf is trying to or is going to attempt and provoke him. Hell considering those impressively long legs she could out run him is a few seconds flat.

As he continues his observation over her, she bravely comes closer, a leathery nose closing in on his shoulder to inhale his scent. Keeping his head high, Donovan doesn’t move, the only things that do are his eyes. Then as quickly as she scents him she’s walking past him, gesturing ever so silently towards the rest of his forest.

Honestly, he hardly knows how to reply to the female. Donovan is having some trouble reading what she is attempting to communicate with him. He’s usually a man of words and action, not silence. 

In a guess he’s finally speaks. “This place is called Ravensblood Forest. Or so the legend says.” He chuckles. Then he gazes up to the canopy above. “Ravens make their homes here in great numbers and these monstrous trees bleed, so I feel like it fits.” Walking forward to stand beside her his eyes rake along the many trees of all types. “This is the territory where the Saints will come to life.”