"Honestly, Mauja," but there's no honesty here. His dreamy eyes were focused upon the pool a moment longer, taking in the red-ripples and the reflection of the mighty tree. The beginning of her words had almost had him thinking she'd berate him for something, but instead she proposed a rather interesting theory—and sounded dead-serious about it. A slight frown creased his 'brows. It didn't smell of blood, and, anyway.. wouldn't the color wash away, if it lay in water? Dilute, disappear? Unless someone died often enough... The sinister claw-marks on the ancient trees, their old wounds; and now this odd girl whispering of blood imprinting on stone and coloring them red. It was good enough of a story, with just enough backbone, to send a slight shiver down his spine, but at her question it turned into a snort. Frightened? Bah, no. He was on the lookout for giant wolves, and terrified of meeting Ophelia, but frightened of some unknown evil that, maybe, wanted to rip his heart out and bleed him out across the water? No. For that, he had no fear to spare, and simply shook his head, long mane waving against his neck.

"No," he answered her plainly, and said no more about it.

If he'd thought to put her off with this blatant show of disapproval, he was, sort of, wrong. And, vaguely confused. With his life? What he was doing with his life? Did "being harassed by mares" qualify as an answer? And had no one ever taught her social interaction? Had she never had anyone to watch, to view how they interacted, deciphered the assumed meaning of phrases? He couldn't read her mind; when she spoke outside of the norm, he was lost, and he drew in a deep, quiet breath as she side-stepped him. It was tempting to simply leave her to her folly in the forest, but he'd never been good at doing the right—sane—thing. "Did you never stop to reflect on the fact that 'what are you doing' usually refers to the current situation, the current action, and not the bigger picture?" he asked her coolly, and turned to keep her in his sights. There was no reason to keep broadsiding her, anyway, and despite the fact that he wasn't sure he liked her, he was a bit curious still, about the workings of her mind. In a way her retort made sense—when he'd asked her what she was doing, referring to her slipping through the forest and ogling him from the shadows, she had responded as if he'd asked for her past, her life-story, her current goal.

And in that way, it made sense that it was that kind of answer she'd wanted from him. But that, was an answer that he was loathe to give strangers; though in this case, this particular time, he gladly would've shouted it at her face. Because if he could've shouted it at her, he would've known himself, and maybe wouldn't have been trapped in the dank, gray fog of confusion. He was lost, the compass needle pointing nowhere, heart full of anguish and mind battling itself. When it came down to it, what was he—wolf, or dog?

"I think you are just uptight." Uptight. Uptight. Part of him wanted to laugh, part of him wanted to cry, or scream, or—anything. Red-dreaming water dripped gracelessly from her dark lips, and his ears renewed their tense acquaintance with his thick neck. Uptight. The word lay ugly in his ears, and not even her gentle acceptance of him being different could make it otherwise. Blast it all; he didn't want to be uptight. He wanted to be loose and relaxed, quick of eye and mind, not.. not.. Uptight? Irma supplied mirthlessly. In a purely physical sense, even if he counted Ophelia out of the equation, Lotus and Keahi had stolen something from him, something he hadn't regained; and through his own sheer stupidity he'd just worsened it. For a moment it had all been his again, that dark night in the Basin with Faelene, but as always.. actions had consequences. And so, he'd walked that road down into the abyss and wasn't sure he'd ever be able to turn it around.

"I just don't like that kind of attention," he responded frankly through gritted teeth, blue eyes piercing her turned-away face. Honesty, brother? The world was a strange place when you had to defend yourself against the interests of a woman-child barely grown.