The Heartwood I'm so Used to Being In The Wrong

She rose a notch when she met his eyes. She was clearly frightened and sheer size dwarfed her, but she didn't waver. Had she wanted to run, he'd have let. Probably would have enjoyed the view too, but he wouldn't have chased. Too hot and he had offered that escape and despite his clear dysfunction he tried to stick to his word.

He smirked as she struggled to keep eye contact his growl quiting a little.

"You know little snow. It's rude to stare and were I hung up on things like station and hierarchy I'd make you avert your eyes."

She was not his packmate and therefore didn't owe him the proper submission. One could argue that she did because she had stepped into his and his packmates land, but she did keep her tail tucked he noticed.

His smirk increased as he traced eyes along form. The growl ceasing. He measured every inch of her from tail to tip, before his eyes snapped back to her face.

"Is that so?"

Deep voice in the open air.

She seemed healthy enough tiny as hell, but he was gigantic so most seemed tiny to him. But did she have the fortitude to join them was the question. He, and Malacath and Khasni were not kind wolves. Except to each other and even then well it depended on the day.

He settled down a little more. "What's your stance on violence, Snow?

He took a breath, "Murder? Debauchery?"