Nightingale Palisade Broken faith

There was no mistaking the white wolf's change in demeanour. One moment he had been bold and defensive, his fur standing on end, but now he stood hunched over with his gaze averted. Askan hadn't been hankering for a fight, but to him it seemed as though the other hand. Hence, as to why Askan had gotten so snappy, and was as taut as a bows string. But now... Had Askan misinterpreted his body language? Surely not, Askan knew aggression when he saw it, and when the white one had spoken his words were snappish and abrasive. Something had changed and the Rye wolf had no idea what. Not that he cared enough to find out. If the white weirdo was backing down, then Askan was fine with that. Apparently he wasn't willing to go without getting the last say. Askan supposed he had asked for his name, in a rather backhanded way mind you, but it wasn't as though he was desperate to know. Now that he knew what he was called, Zilas... Well it wasn't a name or face he would forget anytime soon. And with that, it seemed as though Zilas was done. He left, abandoning Askan in the thickening fog. He was okay with that. Harrumphing, Askan turned and headed back in the direction from which he came. He would have to tell Drestig about this strange encounter, not because he thought Zilas was a threat to himself or the Field, but to simply make him aware of the fact that there was a weirdo on the loose.

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