Deepwood Weald so blissful i press on

It did not take long fornthe ivory counterpart to speak, and he didnit was in equal parts the obvious and offer. Though his interest was piqued at mention of southern climate—Dirge thought it very much more northern—he gave no indication that it had phased him at all. But given as cold and bitter as more northern ranges had been in his brief skirting of such a place, perhaps the stranger would have faired better there after all. This debate was not much more than a quick deliberation; of course a pale-coated wolf would do better where winter was less keen to follow the shift of time and season.

"Think you can stay hidden well enough to help?" he commented, his assertiveness lingering with hawkish gazing. He could tolerate the assumptions that it was more than just himself and Nyx in these parts, whatever it was that would make the venture more profitable in the end. Foregoing a hare or two in exchange for something larger would certainly lift spirits though and it was distinctly better than some of the questionable scavenging he had resigned to on his own.

"I'd certaintly be loathe to lose my quarry because of your coat, not that you can help that of course," and he couldn't fault him for it, not in good conscience, "but I would prefer the tastes of something more meaty for a change." A thin smile followed the trailing of his voice, ever testing what made anyone tick, what made them bend. It was always hit and miss on marks, but at least he learned.