Now that he wasn't crouched over you could see he was a boy in a tiger's pelt. Most always you couldn't. The mask still in place so she wouldn't be able to see more than his eyes. And his arm. He then bent and began licking at the bullet graze injury. Licking at it much like a cat. Quite flexible and coordinated for a male. He kept a gaze on her as if he didn't trust her. He didn't. He only trusted the animals of the jungle. Innocent or not she was still human. He, himself, was no longer truly human. He didn't even flinch as he licked the obviously stinging wound. He then sat up and sniffed her again. Smelling anger and sadness. He knew anger well. His mother often felt it. He didn't know sadness except when one of the tigers passed away. Sniffing her hand and licked it. Scrunching his face up as it tasted salty. He then backed up and sat down much like a cat. Hands on the ground in front of him. Legs angled so he was sitting almost as if on all fours. "Sa-ra-uh...." He said as he sounded it out. What a weird name. "Fang." He said simply. There. Short sentences. "Human leave. Entrance dangerous. Lead out other way." He said. His English very broken. Sniffing her again but didn't move around her this time. Not sure what to think of the she human. She didn't smell dangerous. She smelled funny and salty. He backed up and sat back down. Not saying anything else for the moment. Just taking her in with intense animal like curiousity.