Tighten Your Grip

He looked to her with a small chuckle, "I have come here for no intentions, I was only passing through. But, if you need some slaughtered I would be happy to get my paws dirty." Feral grinned as he scratched the mud from his claws, leaving long lines from where his claws streaked against the ground. "My name is Mal Sorello, but I prefer everyone call me, Feral." He stood and walked a little closer to the grey femme. "I can sense that the cold is not your liking, Raisa." He kept his facial features serious, but not in a way that showed he would kill her.

"I had come from the land of the White Spirits, but I am far from white like my entire pack. But, I had left them a long time ago." His tone staying serious and yet intrigued at what the fae was doing here. He had wondered if she was going to be someone of great importance. A caw erupted his train of thought as the crow again landed on his shoulder as Feral, and the raven colored bird looked ahead in Raisa's direction. He stood a couple inches from Raisa and stood looking at her.

"Is there anything that you would need, Queen?" He asked, his orbs shimmering as he showed a little kindness, and a little insanity in his tone. The snow continued to cover the land as he continued to have specks of snow landing upon his pelt.