The male friend of Death spun to face him, a wicked little sneer stretching across his mouth. There was no answering challenge, no goading or cruel encouragement; only empty acceptance, and a cold promise to come out the victor.
The beast settled a little at this with a soft growl deep in his chest, much like an agitated cat lowering itself to wait out its prey with the occasional pissed-off flip of its tail. His gaze was pulled to the female friend of Death as she rose and stepped forward with her head lowered.
He grumbled another wary growl, but it was half-hearted at her clear submission. She slowly circled around his side, easing her way into his presence, soft voice soothingly gentle. The beast held still, only his head following her advance as he craned towards her with nose lifted, grasping for the scent of this strange creature. He retracted his skull as she took another step closer.
"There now, friend," she cooed. His eyes flicked to the male, curious why he would allow his girl to approach a vicious beast, then returned to her in suspicion. Dark ears melted back in warning, teeth bared for emphasis. Do not come closer.
"It's alright. Tell me what you see, honey," she continued, and he felt his blood chill with ice. Did she know about Kinley? No, it wasn't possible. How could she know his dead daughter haunted him with her child's image, driving him to do things he didn't want to do. "Sometimes it helps to share it. Doesn't always mean what you think it does, you know."
No, he didn't want to share it. He was mad and alone, and he'd keep it that way.
He suddenly felt she was too close, and side-stepped further from her, avoiding her gaze now for fear she might know his madness a little too well and would make him face it down. The monster in him seemed to be slowly sliding back into the dark recesses of his mind, allowing intelligence to return to his eyes.
I am haunted... he agreed carefully, quietly, his voice foreign to his ears and raspy in disuse. He inched another step further from her unnerving presence, and turned his attention to the stallion.
He thought he might apologize, he knew he should and was raised to be honorable and courteous, but how does one ask forgiveness for insanity? Grudging pride also made it difficult to do so to another male, and he gave him his profile, ears dancing with uncertainty. He would not lower himself further in the stranger's eyes.
My name's.. Ainlif, he rasped instead.