The brute was no stranger to war and bloodshed, no stranger to maiming and violence. War had plagued his early years, ripping apart his childhood and destroying his home. A solider first and fore-most, then a wolf, he regarded everything in a tactical yet reserved approach. He had left the battlefield after Evelette?s win, watching with interest as the beautiful ivory dame ripped into the other?s womb. She sure held a lot of surprises. He had turned and retreated from the field, hoping to catch her on her way to Valhalla to talk to her, and see if she was okay.
Since he had met the dame a few weeks ago in a hunt, he learned then just how impressive she was. She took down the large buck with ease, her ivory bodice propelling her to give the kill bite, as the buck at turned to disengage him. She was impressive, to say the least. The battle he had just witnessed also screamed at her skill and expertise. The woman was one hell of a warrior. Her skill in battle was another piece of her that would stick with him, and today, assuming she heard his call- he?d ask her about her home. If Valhalla harbored that kind of warrior, he was interested in meeting others.
Stopping mid stride, he slowly sank back on his haunches, tossing his tawny colored jaws into the sky, a baritone note escaping his canines and calling the lady to him. One word, one note flowed from his core. ?Evelette!?