Redsand Canyon Voice of Witchcraft

His smile fades away and is replaced with a more intrigued expression. Ears cupped towards her, golden orbs blinking and watching her with great interest. He even nods as she continues telling him what she’s learned. First of all the bad news that Neverwinter in a mega pack. Yet Donovan doesn’t recall Simmik speaking of her pack being exceptionally large. The rains. Remembering that the coastal wolves either drowned or moved elsewhere. All Donovan knows is that the leaders of each pack are allies, maybe they bunked in with each other. Or maybe not, who knows.

Yet she seems nervous. She begins speaking of Moonspear, a pack he’s never heard of, and stranger wolves. Tears coming to her eyes and voice wavering. His brows furrow. What the hell? Goes casually through his mind. 

Then she’s cowering to the ground, whining and whimpering for the deed she has done wrong — betray him. His expression goes from confused and worried to more blank then anything. Maybe if she looks hard enough a bit of understanding. 

But most of all — weak. 

Death before dishonor? No, he doesn’t quite believe in that. He’s lied and done other things to get out of sticky situations, but this? Blatantly telling them everything? She couldn’t have attempted a lie? Maybe she’s a spy. Then he thinks, Would she even admit to saying that after what happened with Nemisis? Was she even here for Nemisis? No she wasn’t. He can’t compare her to that.

His eyes are upon her, cold but interested. There’s no teasing smirk on his maw like usual. He’s serious for once as he stares down at her whimpering form. “You know, before you got here, the Overseer before sweet, little Derg betrayed me.” He pauses, looking down on her. “I killed her.” A smirk full of teeth spreads his lips cruelly. “Not sure if you’ve met Dove yet, but she wears her skull.” 

He leans down, lifting his heavy right paw and stepping over her, he keeps his hind legs on one side of her but cages the wolf in with massive forearms. “It’s your turn.” He drawls smoothly, teeth coming closer to the hollow of her throat. A black tongue that contrasts starkly with her pale coat licks at the vulnerable expanse of neck. Lifting his chin to gaze into her eyes his smirk holds malice and his eyes hold excitement, but also twinges of hurt.

“You’ll fight me. And if you don’t want to, I’ll chase you down and make you.” He growls, moving to step off of her. “Get up. It is time to make you stronger, Nyra.”