Urien was moving effortlessly, although there was more cowardice than usual to it. Without much of a choice, he had found himself wanting to be able to breathe in the life that was around him. Choices had been made, and the scolding voice in his head was almost always ringing, this isn't what Kjors wanted you to do... But there was the loop in which he was not about to be denied that as long as he did some swift work he still had a chance. Somewhere out there, answers were going to be granted to him.

As he found himself unable to stop the burn in his throat, he almost made a keening sound. It was an intent that was not going to be denied, but after @Raela had been so utterly helpful in making him want to seek solace into the dark and frustrating place of a pack's life, well, Urien had no choice. There was expectations, and undoubtedly wandering away from home was the wrong thing to do.

The frustration was almost beckoning, but there was no denying that there was boiling excitement. This was an opportunity! This was a reason that he could open his mouth and all but sing, but he was wary about giving out any allegiance. or all he knew, a chiliad of wolves would be marching on him by the next day. Having a tag on him that beckoned association, well, he knew that was never quite the right thing to be doing.

Nose seemed to skim the air, and the wolf was desperate to make his senses light up. Such was a problem, his paranoia creeping in. At the same time, he felt a rousing tug as a woman with paranoia laced in beauty filled his mind, and suddenly @Hecate was all he could think about. Overwhelmed, the male shuffled to a stop and found himself unable to breathe, heart hammering in his chest in a way he could not begin to make sense of it. The woman had been so lusty, she had been so ready and he wanted to chew on her --

Drool dripped on the ground as his tongue lolled out, and he found himself at a loss on what to do. The stiffness of his muscles had to do with the fact even thinking of her worried, fierce face could make him roused and excitable was a statement enough in his own. While he might not have been condemned to think of her forever, it was enough to make him grumble.

He had to find out where she lived, and then he would watch her. Watch her until she was unable to deny it, that he was the one wolf she wanted so very badly.

Drool dripping to the ground, he wondered what it would have been like to rub his face into the stomach of the woman who had stunned him. Hecate had certainly taken him off guard, and Urien was now quite certain that she was the daughter of rogue, alien bandits (why else would she talk like she did?) but he hardly knew what held the attraction. What was a reason that he would be so morbidly fascinated.

Then the answer came to him.

Poison.

About the same time the female took him by surprise, he was coming out of his dreamlike state with a cry. He lunged forward into a prime position with legs spread, mouth hanging open as he uttered a frustrated, male cry. Of course, the lunging from his position forward closed him in on the older woman who was rambling about something, something about the menace to society that she was, and his fur went up. Instantly he bristled, the cowardly Urien shifting to lower his head as he curled his lip at her.

Leaking cauldrons never burst! They ring and ring until the spoils of the poison rot through the bottoms! Begone, witch! Begone! Stomping his paws, he snapped his jaws at her with a sudden flare, attempting to be intimidating. It was the truth of the matter - he knew it must be so. Figuring out that Hecate had poisoned him, to be enamored with her and want to do things to her body - it had summoned the maker of such poisons! It was the witch!

His tail lashed in the air and he was still drooling, grunting as his tail swished and he arched his back - almost in a fair like feline way as he puffed himself outwards; Brutality screams! A murder will not wash away in the willows - it will not, witch!

The madness was going to seize him, going to send him into a fit of never lasting spasms. His tail was swatting against the ground, arrogant and absolutely stunned with the notion that was pinging against the top of his head. It was why there was no missing the shine that seemed to take his eyes, the paranoia leaking it. It was almost endless, and he found himself rolling his paws with the need to be able to escape if needed.

Squawking, he was all but throwing himself back with restless paws grappling over the ground with the notion that a demon witch was going to be perking through his world, and his intention was not about to be thrown away from the path he had chosen. Cleanse the evil, and his paw raised, hopelessly swatting at her as he snarled and bubbled the spit out of the side of his mouth. Lost, there was no missing the struggle that was screaming in his mind, telling him to run before he was eaten alive by this woman.

The feeling of being lost was quick as she seemed to come back at him, Urien had no choice but to throw his body back, turning to face her side on, hissing and spitting at her with outrage. Foolish poison wench! Lift your cocky tail elsewhere! Burn! Dragon fire will smite you - it will make you burn! On the other hand, perhaps he could start crying right here and now.

Was he too far away? If she took him now, would anyone hear him? Would the devil come for him, would he be saved? Thoughts were running rampant, and he could all but hear his chest bubbling up with the name. @Kjors would never be in reach if he needed the male, not really - it seemed like a bit of a phony illusion that protection had been offered. But there was no missing the reality, and his legs shook carefully.

Burn, burn I say! I'll summon him - I'll summon the devils and the dragons, and you can twist your chubby backside in their faces, not mine witch - indeed, not mine!

The intensity was pulling at him, it was whispering and whimpering in ways that could not be explained. The woman who was before him was not something that he would have thought to otherwise embrace, but his heart was rampaging in his chest. It was making him utterly unsure of himself, and he found himself at a statement where the pass seemed to be making sense to him in ways that might not otherwise be detained. Lost, the male's head was swinging and he could not feel the ravaged moment on his tongue that meant he could be undoubtedly in trouble.

His tail swished, baiting and debating with a thousand things that were going through in his mind. While he would have prayed and hoped for a better outcome, this was not something he could begin to imagine, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he stated to defeat the thought that she was going to eat him. The expectation was that he was going to be murdered at any moment, and there was no missing the shine in his eyes.

Licker of the devils! It burns! Trickles alive - and it damns us all! The words were shouting at the other, and his fur was thick and could not be denied, fur puffing up as he hissed and spit with the intent that was singing on his tongue. As his tail swished from one side to the other, he was almost blatantly unable to stop the nasty grin, If the old crone doesn't know the story, then she's not a piece of it! She's a washed up woman! It was tumbling off her lips, knowing that there was things to be promised, and the arch of the neck was dominant on the matter.

@Kjors never would have allowed her to hear his name; and thus, Urien knew he should show something of minor allegiance. There was a strain in his eyes, but his tail swished and he found himself almost dancing toward her, still maintaining that sideways gait, head twisting awkwardly. Burn you with salt! Drown you in water! Witches drown, they drown!

Grumbling under his breath, Urien was beginning to become annoyed. Who was this woman? She was... why, she was just as moody as he was! That would not do, that would not be what would make him seem to wake up and get himself in a better position. There was a tensity in his chest that knew he was going to have to react, and he was going to have to make sure that no one could doubt things for a few long stated moments.

When the female burst open wide, there was no reason that could not be denied for a moment. It was why there was not a second that could be shut down for even the sweetest of moments. He screeched at her, almost wordlessly, and there was no missing the paws that were throwing himself backward. It was not a single moment that could be doubted, and the absent look that was not that could be put to sleep. His fur was flying as he threw himself forward, running to behind her without doubt.

As he opened his mouth, he attempted to snap at her hind end as the panic roared. It was almost helpless, and his paws took him on a haul, screeching; I'll tell him! I-I'll sing the slayer's song, Kjors will say the dawn rings bloody, and the false prophet will fall! He shouted over his shoulder, but he kept running. Lost with the striking notion that could not be thrown into the emptiness. The willows were reaching for him, wanting to grope him and give him something to worry about.

The benefit, of course, as he ran was that the heaviness that was coming down to fall upon him. It was a loss that could not be shot, and his growl was rumbling out of his mouth as he went flying, tail out straight behind him as his legs spread and he could almost feel the energy as he broke the barrier of their confrontation. Oh hell. She was going to eat him alive. One way or another, he was going to get hurt over being so arrogant.

But she deserved it!