Thorn - Syr Mathri on Fenrir
Syr Mathri, Knight of Bravi had a low estimation of the Fenrir when first he laid eyes on him. Where men wore steel and rode proud horses, the Fenrir walked, adorned in Leather and hide like a pathfinder or a ranger. A pair of camp followers shadowed him, but while a true knight would have shrugged them off, the Fenrir made no gesture, acceptance or otherwise to them. Instead he strode purposefully through the camp. He had no weapons and could have been on his way to a picnic for all the Knight knew.
It was well know that the Fenrir was more beast than man. A suuli, a shapechanger. Unfit in comparison to true, blooded men. That the princess tolerated him over her bodyguards was an affront to all ranked men of the knighthood everywhere.
He is a dog, and nothing more.
The Fenrir stopped mid-stride then, and his head turned ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly towards the knight.
His gaze did not waver, but the stance and lean was that of a hunting dog, listening, poised and ready.
Even Mathri's blasted mount canted back two steps, so strange was the gesture. And then the followers were upon the Fenrir, the moment broken, they crooned and tried to caress him, but he moved on.
A dog, and nothing more.
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