But baby it's cold outside

Snow was something that the male was accustomed to, so this blizzard of sorts provided no obstacle to the brute. His large feet sank into the cold delight and would surly leave quite a path for those to come after him should his tracks remain uncovered. The snow clung to his thick, dark furs - wetting the tendrils and clumping them together. His good eye swept the premises, ears alert like always.

Each encounter with a native brought up questions, questions he wanted to ask that his tongue would let him. He was a man of few words, living by the truth that actions spoke louder than words. A reserved, yet austere general. He found words lacking what a simple gesture could do, so he used them sparingly. And when he did use words they were calculating, manipulated by a hidden motive.

By some queer stroke of luck, he happened upon the remnants of a fresh kill. Brows furrowed as he pondered over who could or better, would have left their kill. Perhaps one who want a creature of the cold. Though he was full, he took it upon himself to tear free a piece from the dead creature and consume it. The blood felt nice and warmed his eternally cold insides. It was then that he followed the blood trail to an interesting ship. Now, this was yet another new thing. Fresh blood still dripping from his jowls, he shoved his way inside. He was met by the presence of another fair creature. Handsome smirk slithered across his blood stain visage. His only greeting, now he saw who had left the kill outside in the cold.

" speech "