The silvery man hated the Grove. Hated it with an intense passion. Only bad could come of treading here. Only bad ever did. It was place that seemed to draw the crazies like no other, and yet, it was to the Grove that his wandering paws dragged him once again. Too close to the River pack to be of comfort, but it wasn’t the scent of a River wolf that pulled at his nose. It was his one weakness of course, a girl. A very young, (which usually meant very suggestible) girl. His curiosity would be the death of him one day, but he couldn’t resist the pull of a young malleable mind.

It just wasn’t in his nature to pass up such an opportunity.

Honey hued eyes peered through the trees, seeking the owner of such a lonely scent. Only the mild lingering musk of death remained. Possibly an old meal? Surely a loner would not let such a thing go to waste and rot so close to her hungry mouth? It was then, he spotted her, a mix of cremes, greys and blacks. A pretty young thing to be sure.

Loneliness radiated from her very core, and where others may have felt pity, the silvered man only saw opportunity. Slinking forwards, cautiously of course, for he was yet to have a pleasant encounter amongst the trees of the Grove, he paused to evaluate the situation. Should he speak, or should he wait?

He chose to wait.

Anxious noises escaped the throat of the girl who lay atop the mound. Realisation dawned then. If she had cared enough to bury it then it must hold some place of sentiment to her... unless she simply wished to hide it from the scavengers? But no, it was roughly the size of a wolf, and so he could only assume it was a dead lover, relative or friend.

She seemed to be waiting for something, stepping aside with simple grace. Was this a game he had played before? No, he was not usually a funeral crasher, but those in mourning often sought the comfort of others. She was a bit young yet, but he could be her other... For the simple fact was, Valiant too, hated to be alone for long. He had found a pack in Grizzly Hollow that did not feel the need to constrain him with their rules and border limits. He was free to come and go as he pleased. But what he lacked, was a companion for his long jaunts to tame his itching feet. Perhaps...

Moving forward slowly, respectfully. He stopped at the edge of the grave, his paws not touching the mound for the fear the dead would rise to drag him down with them, a fear once instilled as a cub by a superstitious grandmother... He took a moment to dip his head, eyes closed in what he hoped would appear to be reverence to the girl observing so intently, so close by.

No silent prayer was sent forth for the deceased, female? He thought he caught a whiff amongst the rot still laced to the young wolf’s fur. It was winter. Winter was harsh, wolves and animals alike, not strong enough to survive were committed to the frozen earth with the same regard as the leavings of deer in his experience. This, this was something odd to him, but he would not look down upon her for it.

“Was she in pain?” the simple words slipped forth smoothly, his gravelly tone managing to catch on the she. The boy was an actor and while it had been a while since he had played concern, the role was still fresh in his mind, as practiced as all the rest. The poor mourning girl would struggle to tell that his concern was laced with more selfish intent.

He waited patiently for the words to come. Unpracticed as they clearly were, internally he smiled, almost awash with relief that he struggled to contain a sigh of content, his mask slipping for the slightest moment to show his relief clearly through, it could have easily been mistaken as relief that at least the strangers death had been quick. He hoped that was how she would take it.

Perhaps he was out of practice.

He had worked on a hopeless talker before, forever prattling on and on and on. If she was not so verbally talented, he would take it as a blessing.

So it was the cold then. A slow nod rocked his head up and down for a moment, lacking the ferocity to mimic a dashboard bobble-head, but clearly enough to convey his understanding. “If it was simply the cold, then it would have been painless.” He muttered solemnly, eyes running the length of the grave to land on the girl who had asked such an open question. Naive creature she was. So young, so broken. So lonely.

“I never like to stay in one place too long. Our paths have crossed... before.” he left the timing open, content that the vagueness of his answer would be enough for the girl-child who struggled so with words. If he spoke enough, perhaps she would simply be content to accept it? Perhaps if he distracted her with a question, she would focus instead on finding the words to answer him, than picking apart his answer to search for clues.

“I hadn’t seen her for a while.” he continued quietly, solemnly. He rose again then, gently moving closer to the bereaved youth. “Had you been traveling together long? She never mentioned such a darling companion...” He offered a harmless smile to the girl, his tone conversational, harmless. Stopping far enough away that he would not be a threat he seated himself again to stare at the mound of dirt, leaving the invitation open should she wish to come closer.

Something he said seemed to upset the young girl, though she hardly seemed intent on chasing him off for it. Still, he warily watched her from the corner of his eye, he had experienced more than enough feminine changes of mood to last him a lifetime, and experience had taught him it was far better to be cautious than to disregard such small signs of warning.

She stumbled on her words, it could be seen to be endearing perhaps, were not the silvery wolf so heartless. He pretended to ignore the way she stuttered, focusing more on her twitchy body language than the noises that tumbled from her mouth, although her voice was pleasing. Soft, feminine. He always like the sounds females made, whether they made sense to his simple mind or not.

Her admission that they barely spoke hardly surprised the silvery brute, drawing words from the small girl was almost as easy as drawing water from a stone. But it worked well in his favour, after all, he wasn’t exactly being truthful with the youngling.

A steady smile stayed on his face, is posture as relaxed as could be. He had no intentions of harming the girl, and hoped she wished him the same. When she asked his name, his smooth rich voice slid forth casually. “Valiant.” he paused for a moment to let the name sink in before continuing just as smoothly, “And by what do I call such a pretty young flower as yourself?” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Barely detectable. It was time to try and drag the conversation away from the morose. After all, she couldn’t just sit atop the grave forever now, could she?

Perhaps it had been irony his parents were aiming for naming him such, perhaps they simply had higher hopes for him than he had for himself. Either way, anyone who hoped he would live up to his name was often left in the dust as he fled the scene after another daughter was left broken hearted by his charms, another female left carrying his young. an outcast in her own pack. Alone.

She seemed to be settling and so he dropped his weary eye, no longer worried about her lashing out at him just yet, her waving tail, as with all wolves, a clean indicator of her mood. Mocha tinted ears swiveled towards her as she came up with a question of her own. He was impressed, and concerned all at the same time, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t suddenly morph into a prolific speaker as Hawke had been. His head began to twinge with the possibility. But she stopped shortly after she had started, waiting for an answer.

She would do well in the Hollow, with someone as kind as Jayse to look after her. The two small females would take her in without a second thought... but if all went to plan, he wouldn’t be there much longer. A short nod answered her question at first, before he went on to explain. “A day to the west of here, among the Cedar trees.” He took a moment to allow the directions to sink in, should she ever chose to try and seek him out after this encounter. “But not for long. There is a new pack forming, an old friend of mine will be leading it...” just as soon as I find the cracked bastard. he added to himself. “I imagine they will head east... maybe even take back their pack on the mountain. Drive the others out.” it was with an absent shrug that he finished. Perhaps the information would pique her interest. It would be good for the crazy woman that would be leading to have some more females in the pack. It would be good for all of them.