Firefly Glen Why you always seem in a bad mood?

Kynareth didn't pose a direct threat to them—yet.

But Hydra's swift decision left him much like it did Atlas; he wondered if this is what they would become, or would have to become. He sighed in the lapse of his wife's voice, his stoicism breaking long enough for him to draw his gaze away from the amassed group to look at and see through the lush forest and it's wintry pelage, but it was a fleeting action.

He listened to Keres, then Osiris, and rejoined the conversation.

"No," he disagreed with Hydra, "there's no reason to bloody our maws with urgency. That's the thing with infection—it spreads. It makes us no better than any of our threatening predecessors and we've seen how fruitless headhunting is. A scouting party would be better," but, he trailed.

"But we need to confer with Mal first. This matter involves him moreso than us and it should be his decision, not ours. We can bolster his numbers if he wants to assault, or negotiate, but a man like Kynareth is as smart as he is vicious. It could be a ploy to test us; no doubt he's tested others in the same matter before, and we know that much from word of mouth in and out of his ranks." Namely Valour, if his words could have been trusted, if the words of others left in the wake of the Saints rang true.

He didn't like the stakes in this dangerous game they were playing.

"We must have absolute, irrefutable proof. No one's perfect and there's a mountain between them and us. He would have had to leave a trail, or had help. I say we go to Mal, we talk, and we search from there. Either we find that proof or we find a body." He gave a pointed look among those who gathered, but did not bother to read the expressions in detail; he searched for dissension, unwilling to have the blood-hungry join them.