This land was not proving to be of interest to one with her unique mental capacity. Not one creature here had shown anything approaching the wit to capture her attention. She could not even resort to her old methods of entertaining herself, for there was no beast here, feathered, furred, or scaled, who had the nerve to approach her let alone supply her addiction. Damnation. The rufus-gold empress was enthroned on the charred remains of a thick, low-hanging branch, her posture rigid as she stared fixedly upon the horizon. Nothing, there was nothing here, nothing to do, absolutely nothing of interested on this damnable continent. She'd come to this desolate wasteland to brood, for why not brood in dead land? It was as good a place as any in which to slowly wither away from boredom. She was in no mood to hold company with the mindless idiots that roamed more populous regions. Wicked claws clenched about the branch with a strength to pierce the skulls of lesser prey beasts, now nothing more than a means upon which to stand. ""

Freyja was fairly certain that no bird had a right to grow as large as this one had. Coming upon it had been pure luck, and with what she knew of raptors, the likelihood that it had already seen her as well was a near certainty. It's massive form bespoke stiff avian regality, and already she was not yammering at her as that accursed raven had. Honestly though, why the gods thought to put her in the path of these winged beasts, Freyja could not say. Perhaps she could continue along her path without making a scene out of this encounter. Her trail passed just under the avian's tree, and she could only hope it had the decency to let her pass unscathed. Gods be good, she was hungry and bound for a set of warrens she'd found just the other day. With a pinch of luck, perhaps this eagle had not already set herself upon them, and there would be some left for earthbound creatures like herself. The golden goddess kept a scowl from creeping onto her features. Should it happen that she found the rabbit set pillaged, as she now convinced herself to fear, she would be back and give that feathered buffoon a piece of her mind. She had never known a bird to have more than a pawful of wits anyways, it should be that hard to scare her off. "Talk" "You" Think

The faint crunch of old ash beneath an earth-bound beast's feet drew the eagle's attention from her introspection. A swift sharp movement brought her fierce gold glare to the intruder's form, and she clacked her beak sharply in irritation. A wolf, that was all, idiot enough to disturb her with its stomping about. "Run along like a good little wolf, and do try to be quick about it. Though you have already utterly demolished the peace anyway," she groused irritably. And with that she dismissed the beast from her mind, returning her gaze to the forefront and half-closing the gold eyes. But the beast refused to be dismissed so easily as that, thrusting its image upon her consciousness once more. How had the creature captured her attention so easily, and without a single word? She carried herself with confidence, arrogance, vanity - yes, see how that pelt gleamed with a glisten that could come not from good health alone but necessitated constant grooming, yet she traveled the blackened ashy ground with little regard... a vain creature who was willing to get her paws dirty if it got her what she wanted. Nothing of interest there, no, arrogance and vanity were traits shared by many species and held no interest to her beyond that of scorn and a fleeting amusement. It was her color, the hue that gleamed so brightly upon that well-groomed fur. Locke paid little attention in general to the pelt she tore through when she fed upon the lesser creatures but this... this was a shade unlike any she'd ever seen in a wolf, a hue more golden even than any subspecies of Aquila chrysaetos had ever boasted. She was unwilling to interest herself in the affairs of the furred four-legged species and yet... Her talons tapped restlessly against the charred branch before she gave in to impulse and dropped off the branch. Strong, elegant wings longer than any wolf alive lofted her effortlessly, carrying her ahead of the wolf to a new perch from which to glare down at the beast. "You, wolf - how is it you come to be such a hue? It is impossible for a wolf such as yourself to exist. The genetic history of your species supports no color such as yours and yet here you are." She hissed through her beak, twisting her head to better aim her glare at the impossible beast. "The color must be false. Tell me how you do it. I must know." Puzzles irritated her as much as the challenge delighted her. She did not care how the beast looked, it was the impossibility that intrigued her. Were there more wolves such as this on this continent? A new subspecies, as yet undiscovered? Perhaps she was... mistaken, to have dismissed the creatures so offhandedly. No, no, the color must be false. The only question that remained to satisfy her curiosity was how the wolf had managed such trickery. ""

The creature spoke, and Freyja's mood curdled. With a sour gaze and a mild sneer on her lips she would look upwards and lock her own eyes onto the golden gaze of the raptor. It was entirely her intention to make her displeasure clear. At least this one spoke fluently, unlike that other tar-feathered mongrel. "Your peace is none of my concern," she would say with false sweetness. "And as it happens, you are distracting from my own." She would bear no insult, not today. Not that she was inclined to suffer the opinions of a lesser creature at any time, but after her run in with that blasted black bird, her fuse was considerably shorter. She would attempt to do just as the bird wished, pass by without nothing but grimace, but her tawny beak would clatter on. Freyja was shocked to find out the nature of her inquiry, as it seemed relatively random. Her... pelt? Gods, what did an eagle care about her fur? And what on earth did she care about the inquiry of a bird? She took the span of a breath to consider her answer, and whether she would answer at all. "My fur is my business," she said shortly, "and once again none of your concern. Hasn't anyone ever told you curiosity killed the eagle?" How would one even begin to falsify one's coat? The gods made her beautiful form with their own will, and she was hardly one to question their wisdom. Perhaps she ought to be offended that this bird was not quite so observant. "Talk" "You" Think

Locke clacked her beak in irritation. This beast's uncooperative manner was wasting her time. This would just not do, not at all. "Your business is my business in this instance, wolf, and curiosity itself is not a terminal illness. It would be, however, unwise for a creature, such as yourself, to aggravate a larger creature with far more pointy bits on it, such as myself. That would be far more... terminal, than curiosity. Answer my question." It was so dull, so boorish to use barely-veiled threats to get answers, but these uncivilized beasts understood little else. The eagle's talons dug restlessly into the branch beneath her, scraping ash to flutter loosely into the air. "I must know!" she vociferated sharply. ""