Can't stop and smell the roses!

Enyo’s gaze lingered on Clove, sharp and unyielding. She took in the smaller wolf’s nervous movements the way Clove shifted on her paws, the flick of her muzzle toward the distant castle on the horizon. Her expression betrayed none of her thoughts, but there was a flicker of amusement beneath her composed exterior. Such a little one with delicate features and jittery demeanor.

"Clove," Enyo repeated, tasting the name as if weighing its worth. Her velvety voice remained steady, laced with a hint of curiosity, though her pride was ever-present, coiled beneath each syllable. "A fitting name." She allowed the faintest twitch of a smile to tug at the corner of her lips. It was more gesture than welcome as if to acknowledge the smaller wolf's effort without offering unnecessary praise. Not that the woman would be worth it, with such small stature she doubted the material she came from was much better.

Her gaze drifted toward the distant castle that Clove had motioned to, towering high above the horizon like a shadow against the burning red sky. The Hallows? Enyo had heard whispers of it, though she'd never ventured close enough to confirm the rumors. They lacked anything that piqued Enyo's interest. Besides, her pack didn’t need neighbors. However, standing here now, curiosity stirred in her. A soft interest to understand what kind of wolves lived there and how they might prove useful or dangerous. They would know soon enough she supposed.

"A castle," Enyo remarked, the word rolling off her tongue as if she were amused by the extravagance. Enyo loved luxury and all things that fell under that umbrella. "Do all who dwell there chase deer across the Bifrost, or are you the exception?" The question was laced with both challenge and intrigue, a deliberate attempt to gauge Clove’s spirit.

Her gaze remained steady, unblinking, as if daring Clove to shrink beneath the weight of it. Yet there was no immediate hostility in her presence the confidence of one accustomed to getting what she wanted, whether through strength or strategy. Her attention briefly returned to the deer, blood soaking into the thirsty sand. Now that the flow of crimson began to ebb Enyo began to get to work. She didn't intend on taking the meat home. Just the skull and pelt.

"You handled yourself well," Enyo continued, her deep voice low but deliberate. "Most wouldn't have had the nerve to step into a stranger's hunt. But nerve is not enough in this world." There was no malice in her words, only fact. A cold and measured truth born from experience. Titanium teeth could crunch into the bone, powerful jaws crunching down and twisting and pulling to internally decapitate the head from the body. With a sickening crunch and jolt, the skull would separate from the neck. There was a haunting gap where it once was connected.

She gave a slight tilt of her head, her pale eye glinting beneath the shifting light. "Why are you out here alone, Clove of The Hallows?" she asked, not unkindly but with the keen curiosity of a predator evaluating another. "A little thing like you could easily be swallowed by these lands if you aren’t careful. I fought a jaguar down here larger than you once."

Then she would tear into the flesh of the neck. Severing the skin from the torn muscle. Delicate but thorough.

Enyo’s words were blunt, but not cruel just the way she saw the world. Strength was everything. Strength meant survival. Yet something about Clove intrigued her, and Enyo found herself wondering if there was more to this she-wolf than first met the eye.


"SPEECH"