Knox is a hunter. Knox is a warrior of his own kind. He is hostile, and he doesn't give a shit why she's come here. She's come too far, and now she is going to leave. Why ask her intent, then? Is he just playing with his food or too fickle to maintain his own opinion.

Regardless, he is satisfied by her response: her fear. When she dares to sound irritated, it takes his all to not snap her head off. He draws on the magic of his rank, pulling the words that follow apart, and senses them to be truth. Truth or not, Knox is reluctant to provide her with any information.

He's not that kind of a steed.

"Lucky for you, I know you're not lying. If you'd dared to I'd have your tongue ripped out of your throat, mare." He does not mince words or threats. If he doesn't chase her out, he wants her to at least contemplate running.

"There is a Mountain That Knows," Knox snarls with a heady shrug, being as vague as possible when referencing the herd's storyteller and his father's newfound friend. He has little feelings for the earthen mare, but it seems every ancestor that meets her forms a new one. "Tell me who sent you and maybe you'll be granted an audience," is all he's willing to provide.

He is an officer of intelligence, after all, and he has never been known to make particularly fair trades.

He isn't known for mercy, either, but he does have a reputation to uphold. So when the mare points out flames--flames that instantly spook him and cause a hot spit of terror to surge through him as he is reminded of the monster that burned off his face--Knox does his best to recover. They illuminate the boy easily, and Knox frowns deeply at the sight of an unfamiliar colt on Hidden Falls territory. Another glowing creature trying to sneak in? Still, the silver in those flames suggests a magic that reminds him of his own blinding smoke and he quickly pulls together a crafted excuse.

The hunter moves towards the young one with imperceptibly shaking, horrifying, pounding hoofbeats. His dark frame towers over that of the paint boy. The mare's alertness, her awareness of this little inconvenience, is a disservice.

"Yes, fire. Flames of a rising Hidden Falls warrior. A member of our herd," Knox lies through his aching teeth. Better to act as if this fool is a member than to make it seem as if he's let two slip onto his territory tonight.

Knox's tail lashes and he snaps his gaze to look at the boy, staring him down and hoping he'll do the right thing--play into the lie. "Isn't that right, boy? Born and raised here by me. Raised to keep late night intruders off of our lands," Knox says, sure to make the last part pointed. There's a hesitant note there, something that could evolve into pride if the colt does as he should. He thinks of Milo, his true son, but only for a second.

Milo is a spineless little mute. Will this child be the same, or will he be smart enough to follow a well-crafted lie and save his insolent skin?

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