living dangerously

"No, but it's not like I require its healing properties at the moment."

Grisly voice drolls, a normally monotonous voice chiseled and succinct. To punctuate his sentence, yellow eyes that had not previously risen from the root, seek Poser. Pharos is not stricken by his appearance, nor enthralled. He remains unaffected by their presence, if only in body.

The close proximity, however, is duly noted. An inky lip draws upwards to reveal a sliver of milky white teeth before the iron born abandons his post at the root. Powerful paws heave his mass upwards effortlessly as he begins to assess the opposition's posture.

"What's your name?"

The larger male asks, uninterested in playing games. Nostrils flaring, he catalogs the scent of the other wolf before continuing.