Skoll did not care if she was messy, her dark hair tangled and her eyes sore with grief. Some of it came from his own disregard for grooming, as he always looked untamed even though he kept himself clean of dirt and destroyed the worst mats in his fur. What he appreciated was what remained despite all that—her bone structure, her strength, and the memory of their other meetings, her spirit, her laugh, her impeccable technique of dumping him on his ass once a sparring session. He cared about her, and he was sincere in wanting to help.
Her giggle, distorted with mucus from sobbing as it was, made him grin broadly. Already, the somber woman who’d approached him had gone away a little bit, revealing that she was still a girl who got self-conscious just like they all did.
Her stomach’s growl surprised him, bringing his ginger ears up, but he laughed off her apology. He leaned in to give her a lick between the eyes then pulled away again, gesturing inward into the Kingdom. “I’m sure I can bring a friend to hunt some deer or something,” he said warmly. “Come on.” He stretched briefly, just in case, then let his muscles contract and contort until he was on four legs, his dog’s tail curled over his back. He smiled at her again, and then turned, running for the swathes of woods on Cour des Miracles land.
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