Duskfire Glacier [M] a place for your head

the onyx man follows in silence. a heavy head lowered between two broad shoulders, content to swing, where brooding had begun to melt like ice upon his brow. it darkened the doorstep of his two ruby eyes.
he was pleased that no conversation was to strike between him and this woman. she was unknown to him; and he was not a man known for his pleasantries nor his humble greetings. desperately, now, he wished to be left alone. he would hunker down within this den offered and sleep until one thing or another sought to uproot him from his rest.
at the entrance of the cave, paws of both wolves slowly halt; blackfell turns eyes briefly onto the woman when she speaks, blinking for several seconds, having not fully registered what she asked. when it clicked, his brows knit and he shakes his head, a gruff no. in response.
it will bother him for the coming days: the lack of knowing. he had seen this woman before, and yet could not place it. it is as if he makes to ask, with the way his mouth twitches and he leers upon her; but then nothing. he moves, a cold shoulder, dipping his head to begin a slow lumber into the mouth of the den, his loud, agitated breathing growing with the rise and fall of heavy flanks.