Dawnlark Plains Hungry, hungry

It pleased him to see that his actions had dampened her rage, though his turquoise eyes remained watchful as the woman accepted his wordless suggestion. Sidestepping slightly as she passed, he caught a glimpse of a pelt marred by years of hunting and thought of his own marked leg. The muscles there twinged slightly as her musk washed over him briefly and then the moment had passed.

Settling into a steady jog, the northman instinctually followed her lead. "Sivaak is your name?" he answered her command with a curt question, picking up on the word now twice used by the huntress. 

Though her identity made him curious, Randolf showed little interest in the woman bar the swivel of his ears whenever she spoke. Right now his mind and his body were dedicated to the hunt.