The wolf had caught the attention of the lady dressed in black, though perhaps not in the way he expected. Feeling the weight of crimson red crushing his skin, golden eyes turn forward and abrupt to meet her gaze. A face like a nightmare, creases in places marking what he would assume was criticism. However, the disgust that had often reflected in the faces of strangers was not present; it would not be a stretch to say this Ktulu did not find him to be a delight. "Oofffffeeeeee," Comadre trills from his back even as the great wolf stares back at the constrictor with a simple, unmoving expression. Unable to contain his excitement a moment longer, the little black dragon leaps from his bonded's shoulder and crawls over to sit next to the cloven hooved Ophelia, purple eyes glistening up at her adoringly. The black smiles at the infant silver, remembering him from their short meeting in the Foothills.

The hybrid's eyes only drag away from Ktulu's face as the pale white unicorn begins to speak. His golden eyes find the two opposing colors amid a sea of white, remembering how they had once been frame by a tiny charcoal face. The words shake his reverie, knocking him back to face one who was no longer a child but a leader. She had become something in her time here on earth, while the wolf had remained little more than a dog. "I see," his deep baritone says quietly, before nodding in response to her offer. "Thank you." Thoughts run rampant though his mouth moves little, and only the small black dragon holds audience with the feral creature suited in thick fur.

There had been a time when Osiris had fought for a cause, but that was years before in the land of Isilme. The charming yet corrupt stallion masked by a bleached skull curled his fingers around his mind and offered him a friendship that was little more than sick fascination. It was not that the wolf was too stupid to realize, but loneliness often damages the pride of such a creature. Since finding Comadre's egg nestled in the roots of a tree, however, the hybrid had not been in such desperate need to company. He had fought for an unjust cause, but what did they fight for? The underhanded, the weak, the miserable, or those simply to vain to fight for themselves? He was uncertain, but looking up at a face like pure white snow, Osiris knew he held one thing to be true: Ophelia offered true friendship. He was not one to slap such honest kindness away.

Are you sure you want to do this, Osiris? the dragon asks, gazing over from Ophelia's hooves toward the large wolf in the clearing. "I would be willing to try my luck as a warrior once more, if you will have me," a strange emotion lurking in his throat, but it was an honest answer as any.
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