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Many and more would hear the call that rose from the proximity of the northern border line, but the dishonoured man knew with relative certainty that he was closest to the intruder’s location. Pale feet carried him across the decently forested areas, swift and with little to no sound to signal of his approach. Falling into existing habits, he adjusted his route to ensure that he would remain downwind; indistinguishable until he choose the moment to reveal himself.
The black of his coat had been abandoned as the season turned warmer, and with his light coloration, it was necessary to turn to shadows and undergrowth to remain hidden. A crow’s hoarse cackle sounded from above, and he recognized the bird’s sound as his. Predators rarely acknowledged their presence in such a way the owner of the feminine voice belonged to, but Itachi was not a creature of trust. Salsola wasn’t a place where they could afford to turn the second cheek.
Once bleeding sunset eyes caught hold of her wolfish form, they did not go. He approached her in silence in the standard optime form, unblinking and staring. Dark blond locks partly veiled his face, but there would have been nothing to read on those attractive, masculine features anyway. He didn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve. She had called for one of Salsola’s inhabitants, and here one was. The stage was hers.
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