optime form.
She hadn’t answered, only repeated the single word that slid passed his freezing lips. The man’s brow furrowed with a hesitant step. He watched her, cautiously, with such observance as if she were a prey within his sights and not another canine standing on two legs. He wore no expression save the brow, however. There was not even a flick of the ear or curl of the tail. “Cold, cold.” The feminine voice continued, stating what would be the obvious in his opinion. While made for the colder climate, the Vorrakess man took no pleasure in being drowned in a seemingly endless wave of icy drops.
Was she not of the sane?
He froze, the grip on his dagger becoming more evident as he slowly swung it with the tip facing the ground. Those that were pampered in following such things as religion alike the Zheynche enemies who threatened to destroy the Prince’s home kingdom… were not so much fit to roam around like this. They were cynical, ill in the head and unable to tell fantasy from reality within his narrow mind. Wolfgang knew not of what religion actually consist of. He hadn’t had the knowledge. Lip curling gently to speak, the coyote would not take his blue eyes off the gal in front of him… in case she proved a threat.
“Are you part of the Zheynche?” There was a sharp temptation to speak the enemy’s name with hatred, but he refrained, being taught to kill all emotion… and it had started with the voice.
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