Clint Eastwood

Seth, busy with arranging newly harvested herbs to dry in his cave-den, had not immediately noticed the stranger who had somehow avoided the patrols long enough to hunt and find a perch atop the cliff face above him. When a stone clattered down to roll into his cave, though, he happened to glance out out of curiosity. Seeing the stranger had him pull back in caution, his brown pelt blending with the red stone of the shadowed cave mouth as he watched. Incredibly, the wolf managed to polish off the tapir without anyone noticing, despite her being right overhead. It seemed unlikely, but maybe the rest of the pack was out of the canyon patrolling or scouting. When the stranger called for Ashiel, Seth's misshapen face formed into a harshly sardonic expression of incredulity. She mist be a fool to think trespassing and stealing from the alpha, and then daring to call for him as though taunting him, would be a smart stunt to pull with a child of the Fallen God. Perhaps it was time to make himself known.


The dwarf took one of the hidden paths to the top of the canyon, his short legs carrying him quietly in that strange hopping gait of his, until he popped up through a hole practically next to the much larger stranger. "Well, well, you seem to be making yourself right at home," he said, in a dry, sardonic tone, one brow arching as he eyed her.