These Boots Are Made For Walking

He was silent as he approached and dipped towards the cool water, lapping up a refreshing drink. He felt her eyes on him as he lingered, words inevitably falling from her lips smoothly, calling him strange. That was probably one of the tamest descriptions he'd had over his time, to the point it made him smirk. He had plenty of other names and descriptions, she just hadn't had the time to see or learn of them yet. Something would have to change in this pack, and that was the knowledge of the Kleins. Although he could smell a faint lingering odor of his brother on her pelt, he thought nothing of it. Hannibal made his rounds often, and he didn't doubt she was a frequent flyer. Carthage cared little for women particularly, as long as they settled his need he cared hardly for what laid between the thighs.

He rose his crown and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the blue lenses bright in the darkness of the forest. Studying her face a little, the intricate marks around her eyes got his attention, but ended there. She seemed a bit flashy, but it wasn't Carthage's taste that mattered. She seemed too much like a snake already to benefit him in any way, however Hannibal seemed to think differently if there was a reason behind his scent lingering on her.

"I've recently joined this... pack." He almost shuddered at calling it a pack, as it seemed hardly that. The Klein Empire was a true pack, wolves flourishing in it's ranks until the famine. Erovrare seemed slow and leisurely, a good place to keep up some habits, but a bad place to make new ones. Unsure of her tie to the alpha, he left it at that, not wanting to step on any toes too early into the game. The scent of my brother lingers on your coat. It does not surprise me, but you must know Hannibal is my brother by now. It'd be hard to assume otherwise." He chuckled lightly, wondering if she'd even realized the resemblance.


"Speech!"
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