Ivy watched him with her cool green eyes as he moved. Something familiar tickled at the back of her mind as she observed him. His large, hulking frame was, without a doubt, a werewolf but it was the way he behaved that threw her off. If this had been any other were-creature she was certain she would have been torn asunder, especially by the pack that roamed these woods. Yet the wolves that had gathered around her had not made to bite her or devour her. Yes, they had been threatening and had raised hackles and made a fuss but they had not harmed her.<br/><br/>When the werewolf inclined his head in a crude bow Ivy returned the gesture with a respectful curtsy. In this instance, she took her eyes from him but, a moment later, they were back upon his visage. While the wolves may not have attacked yet, she still was unsure of him. When he motioned for her dagger, however, she hesitated and then something clicked. Her expression lightened somewhat, as if she’d finally realized who she was addressing. She had heard of these creatures before, planeswalkers, and while she had never personally encountered one, she had heard of them. They were so far and few between that they were something of a myth. Her friend, her sister-in-blood, Vivian had encountered one though their crossing had been brief, compared to others. With Vivian the being had gifted her a book and a few insightful words because she, Vivian, had extended lodging to him as he had passed through. He had taken her up on her offered and she’d fed him, gave him a bed, and he was gone before Vivian was awake.<br/><br/>This encounter, Ivy decided, was much more frightening. Provided that her assumptions were right about the creature before her. With his large clawed hand still extended Ivy looked down to his hand and then her own. She gripped the silver bladed dagger tighter in her hand before she loosened it some and raised her head to meet his eyes again. A chill ran down her spine, “Take it if you must, but I will not disarm myself so quickly,” she said and reached to grab a handful of her dress by her hip. Without thought she took the blade and sliced open a long slit into her shear dress to expose the thigh that a plum colored lace garter clung to. It was also the scabbard of the dagger she held in her hand. She slid the cool blade into place then held her hands out before her once more, a show that he was invited to take it as she had said but also that she meant no disrespect. “I hope you understand,” she said with a slight cant of her head in a bow toward him.<br/><br/>No matter his move she swore to herself that she would be ready – blade or no blade.<br/>