The growl that scratches its way out of the throats of his creatures may well be laughter. He quiets them, most with a glance, and a last lion-like beast with a hissed shush that comes wet for where his mouth seems to tear in uttering.

"I... was one." A good one, he needn't say, because he has once more today proved it. Even now, he chases more quarry in the fat purse carried by his creatures, picking out a pheasant with more meat on the sides.

"Honest trade. Simple." Predictable, if you have an appetite for killing. "Only you and the... woods."