Bramblepoint A knife in the dark.

No worries!  :D

An obsidian lobe swivelled atop his crown as a raven cawed overhead, and the wolf's frosty gaze followed to peer up to find a pair of beady black eyes staring back at him. Teinaava paused in his tracks, idly twitching a whisker as he exchanged a glance with the dark bird who canted his beak to better look upon the stalker of shadows. With a soft exhale, he turned his face away and quietly continued through the gnarled foliage.

The sound of running water drew him in, though the appearance of a stranger intrigued him more. Ears folding back and head lowered to decrease his chances of being seen, the swarthy prowler halted to observe the other male's movement. The beast's frame was large, entirely ebony from his vantage point, and careful in his stride. He appeared to favour a forelimb, and a quick sniff of the chill midnight air alerted him to the aroma of raw flesh. What A blood-red pawprint, its subtle against the onyx of the brute's pelt, but the meaning behind it clear enough to Teinaava that he found himself holding a breath.

"What is the colour of night?" Teinaava hissed from between the shrub, a question he assumed all Dark Brotherhood members to know the answer - for if this lone warrior did not, the shadow was sure to vanish. He held the answer at the tip of his tongue in his own eagerness to speak it: Sanguine, my Brother.