Grouse Thicket no more innocence left to spill

They conceded, bending to the notion that Solpallur was indeed the superior here. This pleased him but perhaps they were a pleasing sort. Such a thing was furthered, bolstered by the curious inquiry that his newfound little frú wanted to be shown. The question was just what they wanted to be shown, of course, and he did not imagine that she cared to see in which ways he could truly be. The season was not appropriate, his interest waned because of this, and all that left was a show of power. His smile narrowed, teeth disappearing behind dark lips into a smirk that suddenly held much more darker things with it.

And then he was off towards her with a snarl, his intent not to inflict pain or damage though the very action betrayed such a thing. He anticipated her running, attempting to flee him as though he were some monster carved from the obsidian that comprised his coloration. There were far too few that would partake in the playful bardagi his kind were prone to; to test one’s mettle was a typical thing, to see at which point they would bend and break when they faltered to have a constitution strong enough to endure.

Fear was a powerful motivator, the very tactic they used on prey.

So would they be afraid? Or were they made of more than just a pretty face and body?

He wondered what would set these wolves apart from the rest.