09-02-2008, 11:10 PM
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He drew his lip back from his teeth in a momentary, silent snarl at her plaintive response. Of course someone had died here; anyone with a nose could smell that! The stench of death hung on the air like a curtain around a hospital bed, and was just as opaque. He sighed, his frustration released through that sharp breath. “Someone was killed here,” he responded, feeling as though he was correcting her more than anything. He regarded her critically, thinking that he might be facing someone who had been present — or active — in whatever murder had happened here. Because it hadn’t been accidental; not on this beach. The wolf would have had to have tripped and impaled his or herself on a spike of driftwood to end up with this much blood spilled, and that wouldn’t explain the multiple canine scents he was picking up now beneath the overpowering blood scent.
He didn’t needle her for information on it, though; not yet. Hopefully, once he knew who the hell she was, he would have more reason to know. For now, however, he simply shook his head at her question. “My tribe and I have come from far away to this place,” he answered, speaking somewhat defensively. He wanted to make it seem like he was in a large group (which he was), just in case the now-calm golden canine decided to snap and go on some murderous rampage right here and now. “And I am not sure I would agree with settling down here if this,” he stamped a foot once on the ground, meaning the death of the previous day, “Is commonplace.”