Ravensblood Forest. It had a curious ring to it... And settled in to his mind as a tidbit of information to bring back to the priestess. How odd that it was not controlled by a pack - it was beautiful, and with the oncoming autumn, it would surely become even more enigmatic a location. Atlas' gaze slipped away from the woman and began to trail along the color-changing boughs above his head, but he kept an ear out for anything she might say.
And speak she did. Her voice was light, and she sounded a little overwhelmed. But why? She was a woman - they, by their very design, deserved more respect than any man. The ensuing quiet may have felt strange to any other wandering wolf, but Atlas was accustomed to the silence of the adepts; it was rare for him to have a conversation with them without the pretext of his station.
A curious name.
The consort finally muttered as he turned his two-toned gaze towards her once more. His gaze slipped to the ground at her paws, unwilling to go against his training even if she was a stranger - or a heathen. If this is not your kingdom, where do you come from?