Ouroboros Spine Shadows

Duskhall moved with single-minded intent at a steady-beat pace; not an ounce of haste or stealth to his trot. Hypnotized by the thrumming rhythm of his pursuit, he was slow to react to the drumming sound of an additional set of pawsteps invading his peripheral. He came to an abrupt halt, turning his long, fiendish muzzle towards the encroaching she-wolf: an ashen-blonde agouti whose silver-green eyes he met fiercely.

His bristling, stiff-legged response came, at first, from being startled. He remained this way even after he'd sized her up and concluded that, in her present state, this featherwisp could not best him. The rippling-black skeleton settled a moment later, his anxiety passing so that it might turn to annoyance; displayed by a slicking of his ears. Then, without discussion or debate, the wraith seemed to reluctantly acquiesce to his presented company while simultaneously resuming his soldier's march ahead.

His loose-limbed body language was meant as neither acceptance or deterrent, only neutrality to her involvement in the half-finished hunt— which would be as much or as little as she chose. Either way, he pressed on.

Sorry for the horrendous wait!