Altar of Twilight got a hardwired metal soul

The dark male seemed compelled to keep talking and talking.  Tehama narrowed her silver gaze as he continued to rationalize his actions, her tail lashing the air irascibly.  Oh, how she wished now she'd remained at the borders for just a while longer in hopes of running into Desdemona, or that she'd just retired to Moonspear's embrace rather than venturing away from its security.  Surely any interloper there would have been properly apologetic and not nearly as annoying as this Tvarog.

"The fact," she said crisply, "of the matter is, if you go much further in at least two directions, you'll be within Ostrega lands.  And if you veer off course to the southeast, you may run into Redhawk lands as well.  It is the dead of winter and all will protect their hunting grounds as well as their own borders."  Though she remained with glittering snow in her fur, the woman's features were cold and hard, not at all the fanciful expression she'd so recently worn.  "So now that you've been thoroughly warned, you might consider walking through as you please with a great deal of caution."  As she mimicked his own words, her lips curled into a sneer.  His manner, clearly intended to irritate her, was childish and easy enough to disparage, even for a woman not given to cruelty or cold temper.

Not intended to spend her night engaged in actual conversation or interaction with this Tvarog, Tehama turned and went towards the underbrush that would conceal her departure.  She kept him in the edge of her vision, announcing primly, "I'll be staying in the area to make sure you find your way out."

She slunk away, annoyed, between the snow-dusted trunks of the trees.