Let's be better strangers
Aela might feel him, but she won't see him, not with the way the invisibility slips over his skin like night swallowing the day. The closeness of the jungle makes him regret his decision to come here - this is not a place for him, with his wings and his Northblood - but the task had piqued even his well-buried interest and the dappled stallion wasn't about to let Ob and Aela have all the fun.Hunting children is maybe not the most thrilling adventure, but Wherewolf isn't prone to working too hard for his wins.
His feet clip against the black path of an old lava flow, hidden feet that stop abruptly when something - somethings - considerably less concerned with remaining unseen dart across the trail and back into the low brush. Moments later, the fae-prince's voice drips out into the dark night like treacle, and Aela names the creature. Sickle.
The trail they've collided together on is separated from his by the enormous elephant ear leaves of a thick stand of taro plants and he, ever more interested in the easiest option, is disinclined to charge through them or play catch-up 'round the bend. There's a shiver of air and the Wherewolf that appears just behind the little glowing cat is looking skeptical and perhaps a little strange to his "friends" with its distinct lack of wings. His broad head rears back dismissively on the thick curl of his neck, making the tarnished silver of his mane bristle.
"That won't be Sickle," he says as though he believes it, though he knows enough of Aela's power to trust her instinct, if not her, "Probably just another of these damn glowing ocelots, this is the eighth one tonight!"
His short tail snaps, lashing the tobacco and gold of his flanks with false irritation, looking down on the girl with eyes more blue than green.
"Too bad. Malik will be so disappointed if we come home and say we haven't even talked to her."
