There were a lot of mysteries surrounding the child. For one thing, he would never reveal the truth behind where he went all of the time. As long as it was away from others, or close to those that would easily bend to his sadistic will, he didn't really care where he was. Furthermore, on the matter of food, the way he fed himself was not entirely questionable. After all, Laruku had helped him to secure his first kill and, since then, he had managed to perfect it on twigs and things. If he was quiet enough, the child could catch a tiny rabbit, as long as he snuck up on it as easily as he possibly could. This, he had discovered, was quite easy for him, either because he was still quite small, because he had the steps of a dancer (though it was a dance of death), or because he had the will to be self-sufficient without the help of those inferiors in Inferni.
Faolin, to him, was an underling most worthy of a beating. Hybrid was the only coyote he respected at all, and while the Lykois were all higher than he save for Arkham and Empusa, he still believed they were all fairly below him. He was the newest prince and, as such, the one with the best chances of destroying all of them. This, coupled with the hate festering in his heart for everybody that did not prove themselves worthy of not being hated or of being let to live simply for the fact that they would do his bidding, had already tainted the boy with a taste for killing and solitude.
And Hybrid had not helped the matter. In fact, Andre would come to learn as much as he possibly could, and more, from the older wolf-hating coyote.
He turned around quickly when Faolin spoke from behind him, biting back a curse that he hadn't noticed her before, hackles already bristling in fierce rejection. The first time he'd seen the coyote, with the typical colours and her deep crimson eyes, she had been rolling in the sand like a total idiot. Back then, Andre had been slightly tamer, quite a bit younger, and less able to take advantage of everything around him. This time he was a lot more vicious, and a lot more capable of doing damage. Get the fuck away fr'm me,
he snarled, though his voice was low. Unnervingly low, and dangerous.
As for where he'd been all that time, or the fact that Rachias had gone to Clouded Tears, he didn't give a shit. He simply ignored these tidbits of information, so focused on how tense his muscles were, how quickly he could spring and sink his teeth into her face, that he didn't care.