Salvatore was entertained by the she-wolf's vibrant vocabulary. "Creepy", he mused. The loner made a second attempt to see through the branches and spot the heavens overhead: all he saw were branches upon branches morphing into one branch until they became one colour that looked like an inky sky. Perhaps that was the one thing he didn't like about this forest: starless-ness. Come nighttime, it would be colourless and eyes would most likely become useless, forcing him to rely on only his ears, nose, whiskers, and gut.

"I wander," he said simply. "I follow whatever I'm hunting. The only way I can hunt down a deer by myself is if I tire it out: that can take days at a time, usually. Along the way, it'll either manage to hurt itself or prove to be more sick than it looks. I end up wherever it drops dead and then move on." His mind ambled to the rabbit he was hunting. "I rarely hunt a full-grown deer, though, obviously."

He looked back down at the brown wolf and saw her sprawled out on her side before him. Salvatore hated being on his side: he couldn't get up as quickly as he could on his stomach if he needed to escape quickly. For a moment, he envied her comfortableness -- something that probably came with being in a pack.

"Why do you think this place is creepy?" he asked.