Blackfoot Forest patron saint of lightening bolts

Even through their distance, Cry felt the electricity spark, thin bands weaving betwixt he and the unknown loner. However, rather than feed into the hazard as a conductor, he kept his own aura calm, resolute, and instinctively hoped this would nullify the tension of the ignorance. With Gwen so close, and Phex more than likely returning to their side as well, Cry had more than enough to defend, but in any such case, he would rather be the first one into the fray. Visions of carnage, alabaster and platinum jaws locking into his piebald youth’s neck, tearing and shredding until her whimpers ceased, a savage ruin of Gwen’s own perfect hide as it was slathered in her own blood - they came to Cry with horrid swiftness. But the Assassin kept his cool, despite the nightmarish visions.

Taking no movement forward, the Keep Watcher asked from where he stood, baritones level and without aggressive motion, “If you’re not too busy, we’re on the hunt for something a bit more worthwhile.”

While onyx ears flashed forward to catch this slate hunter’s answer, one prematurely swiveled to the dash of noise that signaled Phex’s own arrival. Taking a frozen gaze from the Silver One, he glanced at Phex, who had been successful in her own right. A chuckle rose from his dark lips as the tricolor girl had feathers stuck to varied portions of her face. Her body sang a positive high, and that kept a smile on the Guardian’s maw.

Turning back to the loner, Cry patiently waited for a break in the silence. Should his offer be accepted, the ebonian would allow whomever came up with a lead first to head the pack in this hunt. If rejected, they would return to their own hunts, resuming as thought nothing had happened.