Shadewood on the altar of a sunrise

He didn't bolt. He tensed, but he didn't show any sign that he was going to try and run away, to avoid an attack. He seemed tired and quiet, and though his one, flat eye gazed at her calmly, she sensed that there was recognition. She might've guessed that he wouldn't remember her, as from the look of him, he'd suffered enough trauma to merit a good deal of memory loss and if not that, then selective memory blocking. He looked dull, like a piece of fabric worn and washed too many times that it bears stretch-marks, holes and its colour fades to a more muted tone. He looked different- not the way she remembered him at all. 

She tried to recall how he'd looked when she'd first met him. He'd been arrogant, full of life, and defiant- but they had been a team. Once upon a time, they had been friends, they'd been young, wild and savage together- and at one point, she and Screech had stood together against Towhee...But the wolf who stood before her now might as well have been a completely different creature. He looked like he'd been beaten enough that he was resigned to whatever fate would deliver to him...He looked like a creature that wasn't completely relieved that he'd survived. In fact- he looked more like a creature that didn't know he was alive at all. 

He had no voice when he went to answer her, and she wasn't surprised. She felt proud that he couldn't make any sounds, proud of Towhee for doing that to him. He looked like he trusted her, for a moment, which made her doubt herself. His calmness caused her to teeter off-center for a moment, made her doubt that attacking him was right. But she shook herself out of it; just because he was a pitiful creature did not mean that she had to pity him, or show him mercy. 

"Good," She said softly, with a still beguilingly sweet calm. She took a few more steps forward, demurely. She wanted to see how close he would allow her to get, still watching for any sign that he would suddenly bolt.