As soon as the sun had set, Sköll Archer had risen from the darkness of his hiding place within the heart of Willow Ridge. It was nothing grand (like it should have been), just a rabbit burrow that he had fashioned to his size and liking; the rabbits that had once lived there, unfortunately, all had new homes in the caches not too far from this newly established hideout. The hanging vines and unearthed roots draped across his back as he emerged, stretching his lengthy limbs and working out what felt like cricks in his neck. He breathed in the evening air and, after making certain that no one was nearby, took a step in what was to be the first in a long trail that traversed the pack lands and investigated the lands to the south. Only recently, he had actually caught that stupid agouti boy's scent in the area; and, truth be told, the young royal was rather interested to see, with or without a fight, just how interested the other was in Quil...

He broke through the last of the willow tree branches and into the open meadow air sometime after he had filled his stomach with the contents of the groundhog that Angier had recently stored away. His step-brothers might have enjoyed it, but Sköll was convinced that since no one had gotten to the buried rodent at that point in time, it had actually been meant for him. With the taste of day-old meat fresh on his tongue and throat, he casually sauntered forward. The winds blew and teased at his lengthening summer coat, but it had not been enough to make him squint or close his eyes He lowered his nose to the ground, scanning it for that familiar scent of evergreen and decaying pine needles. What he found instead was the signature of a young female who was neither his sister nor the Attaya girl who had openly and verbally spat in his face.

Intrigued, he followed after her, picking his way among the sloping knolls until the land leveled out to where the once red-and-orange flowered had once been in bloom. In the wake of autumn, all that was left were the dead stalks and the dried up petals being whisked about and blown to other places in the Lore. He straightened up to address the pain that was nagging at him near the base of is his skull, and that was when he saw her there. In his mind's eye, she wasn't exactly pretty but, then again, the prince's opinion on superficial beauty was lacking when he put so much value in the way one utilized their vocabulary and willpower. Perhaps he would have to give her a chance to redeem herself, even if she had not yet even noticed him or opened her mouth.

His had came up and his chest swelled with pride, the confidence radiating from him as his tail also wagged about behind him. By body language alone it seemed that he meant no harm. No flashed teeth, forwardly angled ears, bristled fur, or even the sound of a menacing, poison-laced growl or exclamation; it was all just a show of arrogance and poise, the essence of what made this Archer who he was at his very core. Locking his ghost gray eyes on the woman and standing just outside what most considered their "extended" personal space (maybe a little over 26 feet or about 8 meters away), he purred at her with a delighted smile, his interest in her presence unmistakable by the insinuated infatuation in his voice, "Well, well, well, and what have we here?"