The big black wolf was healthier by far than the lean, almost scrawny beasts that he was used to seeing in the Woodlands. At first he thought the hunter was from the Greatwood, come seeking new territory or perhaps chasing prey across the barrier line, both too distracted to realize they had wandered from their greener pasture. Not until the golden-eyed beast looked up did he realize that there was far too much intelligence in that glance for a simple animal, and when the mental voice slid into his thoughts he almost fell off his branch at the sudden rush of familiarity. He hadn't known she could shift into an animal until the storm, and since then there had been too many things happening for him to think back on it, but now he realized she was like Remi: mage and shapeshifter both.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that, either, but that was becoming normal for his life lately.
Jigs, though. Really? But if she was doing it to get under his skin, he didn't intend to give the assassin the satisfaction. If you're offering, then yes, a bite would be appreciated. His mental voice was cool, though not as hostile as their last meeting had been. Still, he remembered Rory's fear of her, and he didn't try to snuff the ember of anger that still smoldered in his heart for the threats she had made against his mate.
Many things had changed since last they'd met, however. He had mellowed in some ways, but sharpened in others, and he had grown into a different kind of power than he had known on his world. Even more than that, though, the weight of his responsibilities no longer allowed him the petty satisfaction of growling and lashing out against those he did not like, for he had to hold himself to an uncomfortably high standard.
And you are welcome, though it is Amalia you truly have to thank. She was the one who led us out there that day. He dropped from the branch, falling in a graceful dive to the far side of the kill to begin worrying the eyes from the deer with his heavy, pale beak. One was gently presented to the little gryphon to play with, while the other slid down his throat with satisfying slickness. What were you doing in there? He finally inquired, almost reluctantly, as curiosity got the better of his aloofness.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that, either, but that was becoming normal for his life lately.
Jigs, though. Really? But if she was doing it to get under his skin, he didn't intend to give the assassin the satisfaction. If you're offering, then yes, a bite would be appreciated. His mental voice was cool, though not as hostile as their last meeting had been. Still, he remembered Rory's fear of her, and he didn't try to snuff the ember of anger that still smoldered in his heart for the threats she had made against his mate.
Many things had changed since last they'd met, however. He had mellowed in some ways, but sharpened in others, and he had grown into a different kind of power than he had known on his world. Even more than that, though, the weight of his responsibilities no longer allowed him the petty satisfaction of growling and lashing out against those he did not like, for he had to hold himself to an uncomfortably high standard.
And you are welcome, though it is Amalia you truly have to thank. She was the one who led us out there that day. He dropped from the branch, falling in a graceful dive to the far side of the kill to begin worrying the eyes from the deer with his heavy, pale beak. One was gently presented to the little gryphon to play with, while the other slid down his throat with satisfying slickness. What were you doing in there? He finally inquired, almost reluctantly, as curiosity got the better of his aloofness.
