Great Bear Wilderness I made it all look painless,

His pawsteps were loud, the earth beneath him crunching underfoot. He moved with the grace of a wolf who cared not where he tread, or who he might come across. Such was reflected in the lack of surprise from the pale brute when a young, scrappy voice fell upon his two perked ears. It didn't take long to pinpoint her location; his own body swiveled, sore muscles bending beneath a pale pelt.

Stark’s gaze drifted over the youngling, unblinking, noting the subtle defiance in her posture. A scrawny thing, barely grown, yet there was a fierceness in her gaze, a bite that belied her size. His lip curled in a faint smirk, just enough to unveil the toothy grin he'd been cursed with from birth. It was not intimidating, but then again -- Stark wasn't trying to be.

“What’s wrong with me?” he rasped, voice low and rough, each word emphasized by the lump of gravel in his throat. His throat was sore from misuse. Stark let the question hang there, a hint of amusement embellished in his good eye.

“Bold words from a pup still tangled in brambles,” he muttered, snout jerking in gesture towards the burrs disturbing the sleekness of her silver pelt. His voice softened then, barely above a murmur, though the steel remained. “I’ve lived through worse than this, pup. Pain is an old friend of mine.”

He'd never admit it, but the presence of another did well to soothe his nerves. Even if she was small, and arguably puny.