~Present Day~

Her breath was light and painted with annoyance as she stormed away from the Red Dragon, silver borne eyes blazing with that instant fury that came so natural to her, the edge of violence threatening to consume the swirling depths that would compete with the sheen of a well oiled blade or the light of the moon. The beast in her was a territorial thing. She was meant to be this way ever since the moment of birth. The knowledge that she was different from the rest well known from just a glimpse over the tanned faces and pale hair of the ones she was left to grow up with. She would never be tan but instead pale with a thick darkness of hair rather then the blond wisps so well marked by the people of the tribes. Time had left skin to be a shade dusky after years out in the sun, the splatter of freckles her skin's only silent defiance to prove differences from the rest. The dark hair would ever set her apart as much as the smoky umbra of a growl that seemed to ever consume her words. Reflections and Resistance were never in her will or way, such did not come natural to Siria. Such was not the way of a Dog of War when they found that near symbiotic relationship with their blade or any weapon that they would wield. As the female of the Dogs of War she had learned only from the myths written in dark bound books that she was considered the Dancer, the Shield Maiden. Still after so many years alone, to find....to smell another of her kind....it nearly would drive her to infuriating madness. This was meant to be her territory and hers alone. Siria was no wolf, she was far from the werewolves and shapeshifters that tore around the world and claiming themselves as beasts. Surely they were all of these things but never would they be as she was....as now she realized he was. Dogs of Destruction, raised through their blood and lives for war. Did he even realize? Were there even rules that would control such a defiance of overstepping the boundaries of territory' How was Siria to know when her understanding of her own kind came only from whispers and unholy books. Delightful shivers when little children told their dark secrets of the nightmares their mothers told them of to keep them from war torn and ravaged lands. Those were the things that Siria knew of her kind. You didn't cross a Dog of War. You didn't threaten a Dog of War....and surely....another Dog should never cross into a claimed territory. A furious sound erupted from her lips, far more savage and primal as the beast born instinct took over and she took off running into the night, losing herself deep in the forest to return to her blades. Perhaps the blades would have the answers. Siria prayed if not for the answers that they would stifle that overwhelming draw, that instant awareness and attraction to one of her own kind....after so many years....so many years. A sharp sound of agitation became a snarl out in the night. She could not....she should not have such feelings. No matter how strong the nature of the beast, her Pride would always win over her resolve and her spirit. Damn him for crossing into her territory. Damn him to Hades. She would make him pay.