Boartusk Heights For here he owns, that now and then

Rather than answering his question, the bristling wraith barked out a stream of her own interrogations; Her voice nipping him sharply with tones of panic and suspicion. Immediately indignant, Piety’s eyes locked firmly upon the bewitching silver pools that stuck out against her starless coat, and his hackles began to tremble. A younger version of himself -- perhaps only by a few months -- might have been offended enough to defend his honor. But a wiser, more even-tempered obelisk stood before her now.

He snorted to express displeasure, but found no cause to further escalate the situation. She was already a hunted wolf, fearing that she had been found. Adding to that level of anxiety would bring him no honest pleasure. 

“I am called Piety Montserrat,” he replied flatly to her query. “I was not tracking you.” His emotions could be difficult to read at this distance, but his vocal exchange was unwavering, sounding equal parts honest and disinterested. “I was following the scavenger,” the goliath elaborated a beat later. He made an almost imperceptible gesture with his broad muzzle, motioning upward to indicate that he was talking about the raven.

Then, in an uncharacteristic fashion, he asked, “Are you in trouble?” In fact, the question came so far out of the blue for the mountain wolf, Piety himself wasn’t even sure why he had asked. What did it matter to him if she was or not? Would that fill his belly? Would knowing this help him or Neven in some way? Why did he care?

His stomach knotted at the unfamiliar concern he felt, and his thoughts turned to getting rid of the nagging emotion as quickly as possible.