the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives
The startled sound that slips from her brings him a measure of satisfaction, though it isn't that he's a sadist. He simply likes that she doesn't assume the wolf to be harmless at first. His brother was always maddeningly careless when it came to the wolf, and because of their magic his parents saw her as just another thing that could be controlled. And while Daemron posseses the power to control her in that way — to strip her of willpower and force her to obey his whims — he has never exerted it. The control he does have with her is simply an understanding that exists between the alpha and beta of a pack. And though she's been by his side since birth, she was still wild — still dangerous.
It was good to see someone respect that, for once.
When Pyxis addresses her, the slinking wolf gives a shake of her head and breathes a sound like wind that hisses past tongue and teeth in quick succession. She was laughing. "Funny," Daemron remarks dryly, casting a raised brow toward the wolf before turning to meet the mare's ice-blue gaze. She was rather charming, though perhaps her charm is wasted on the chestnut — he's always had a serious streak. His eyes search hers, considering her. "I'm Daemron," he responds as the wolf settles beside the trunk, watching them intently. "And this is —" A long, ruddy ear twitches in his direction. The only name she'd had until now was Wolfie, compliments of Nihlus. Daemron hated it. "Red," he decides then. The wolf hears him and blinks once in recognition — then she tucks her maned head and sets about cleaning a large and bloodied paw as if neither of them existed.
He supposes it's his turn to make conversation. "She likes you." Abrupt, but true — the wolf rarely chose to keep open company like this with anyone besides himself. "Pyxis, right?" A willowed tail flicks against chestnut hocks. "So, Pyxis, you don't mind wolves and you taste awful." Though the tension from his restless night still lingers (faint lines etched against the hard muscles of his body) he rolls his shoulders and focuses on her instead. Perhaps he needs to be distracted. He lets his smoky eyes trace her features carefully, though his tone remains casual. "What else should I know about you?"