Ravensblood Forest torture saints with a single glance

He hums to her in acknowledgment. “Good to hear.” He comments easily. 

Vaguely he wonders how one could stay on the isle and not have an allegiance with them. Perhaps they did this to her. Perhaps she was like him and has felt the wrath of the coastal wolfs because of a disagreement in views. 

Then as the flock of ravens sound and their retched cries fill the air he laughs once more, shaking his head side to side.  “Both.” He hums following her gaze, watching the onyx birds fly off. “My pack was run out of these woods by them. I wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth into their pretty leaders fur and soaking it in red.” The words are malicious but somehow his tone is devoid of heat. As if he’s discussing the weather.