Hideaway Strath salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt

The Raven was habitually a source of irritation to the Mackenzie herself, often ruining hunts and evasion. Seems like there was a benefit to having the Raven around for once. The steel of her eyes hardened as she kept them transfixed on the burgundy of his, zeroing in all senses upon him. He was a spindly phantom in the night, the spear-like shape of his ears with his bloodshot eyes giving him a devilish façade. The moonlight made his angles even more pronounced and chiseled. Her thoughts flashed again to the blood lined bark of the borders, wondering if he especially had a part in it.
 
His scent was thick of the Saints, well established. Thin as he looked, he appeared of good health and untainted with any disease from afar. The crook of his head with the vermillion of his eyes spoke louder in their intent observation of her than any words could. She could feel her foreclaws flex and dig into the soil beneath her paws, a gesture of anxious uncertainty as to what he was so intently leering at her for. Zsuzsa was bewildered further when he retreated back into the cover of the shadows.

Uncertain if this was a higher-ranking member putting her through a test as being the newest Saint, Zsuzsa stood her ground. ”You look like you never saw another wolf before.” She finally spoke in her alto lilt. Funny enough, she thought she was the odd one gawking in stunned silence at him for being the anomaly he was.