Hudson's cold skin puckers more in the idle purgatory of this frozen palisade, brought on by the tension churning in the bleak sea of his chest. His heart, a lone iceberg just sinks a little more into his gut as the two come nearer. This is not about the fact that they were females, though a good guess by an onlooker; he is shaken by their forms, their essence. The last time he's seen another beating wolf was when she was bathing in her own pool of blood and snow, breathing the last faint trace of his breath. Beating out for the last time. No wonder they shock him so, moving in like ghosts, their eyes ablaze with friendliness he's never really been accustomed to seeing in his past. They come like the glitter of sun on the morning grass, suddenly all at once. Overwhelmed is an understatement, though his shy eyes fight desperately to hide it. But he rattles in his bony cage, tremors creaking through his knees.

He knows they will not, can not harm him. Hudson is big enough to only have the underside by a few measly points, without consideration for his training, or what his brothers put him through. But that weakness beyond his bones is always there behind his eyes, an internal ghost prowling the halls of his life, turning the curve to face him at every corridor. He blinks it away, banishes it from the two women before him. He thinks of them, primarily the red girl approaching, and what lack of tension blows through the wisps of her tail. Huck tries to loosen himself, blinks another creaky eyelash over his rusted irises. He remembers to breathe, pulling air in as though it's his last, releasing it in one wintry bloom. Rosy eyes return to the both of them, now facing him at an intimate distance, "I'm sorry, you, you just reminded me of someone."

Shaken by his own disclaimer, he offers a very coy smile from the taut ends of his lips. But something changes before him, his eyes just catch the pale, reverse silhouette of another wolf, followed by her immediate, foul bark. Hudson rams himself right back into his icy cage, trembling at the sight of a ghost in murky air. The poor guy was just breathing again.

Out of precautionary dismay, Hudson shatters his frozen grip on the world beneath him and shuffles sideways toward Lord. The calamity surges as Vaeta lopes her way over to the additional onlooker. Hudson fears for the girl, thinking of her honey eyes out of protective terror, wondering what kind of trouble she will fall into one day. Ice's venomous hiss pushes the white male to the extent of anxiousness. He shoots a glance toward Lord while Vaeta goes on introducing herself nonchalantly as though strangers are as good as friends in the wan hours of night. Forsooth.