Hideaway Strath There's just Devils and Dust

Artok raised a brow, or the equivalent of a wolfish brow, and dipped his muzzle downward. Without a backward glance, he turned and headed back towards his bird.

She could go now, clearly she was a bit touched or distracted or something, he wasn't even sure. But he did know when he wasn't wanted. He knew that lesson well.

Some could even argue he knew it too well, but his hide was thick for a reason.

Well met. He called behind him.