runnin' late with half your makeup on

The Warlord flicked a crooked smile Hazel’s way. “Enough.” He admitted. If it had been an adult wolf, he would have taken it as a slight against his pack. But they were pups, and she would figure out how to get her own. Besides, Basilisk was already a heffalump posing as a wolf. The two were as tight as two peas in a pod, they’d figure it out. He’d leave them to it, so long as they didn’t create an incident between their packs.

The Warlord chuckled at her eager words. “Warriors just like me had to start out somewhere. Practice and perseverance, little one” he said, leaning forward to nuzzle an ear with his nose. Then, he paused, and frowned down at her. “Has Halo seen those teeth?” he asked. He didn’t know anything about where she came from, or if those fangs were inherited by someone, but they were… stange. They reminded him more of the crystals from the Long Night than anything else.

But, if they weren’t troubling her now he wouldn’t alarm her, and he would speak to Halo later. At the border, Hazel took to the challenge of scenting out the male. At her words, he snorted in amusement. “I would say he’s recently branched out from his family. Looking for a place and some woman of his own. That strong musk would be alluring if you were a jaguar female. Think you could track it?” he challenged her.

"Sirius Fatalis"