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He listened to one, and then the other, the slow swinging of his head from peryton to white dog as slow and ponderous as his thoughts themselves. He listened, he watched, and only when the peryton had wandered off to drink, and the frightened-looking dog fallen fully silent, did he speak. And even then, only after thinking, for a long moment. He was so still and silent that were it not for his canine odor, to Magdalena's senses, he might have been gone.

"...Then the Dog would ask that you take him to the lion. If you hunger, he will hunt," he added, very simply. And then--as if in explanation, though with his mind on the odd deer-creature that had been crowding her--he said, "I am Void. I am Black. I am guardian, and servant. It is why I have been woken." He said this with utter calm confidence and nobility, quite certain that he had been deliberately hatched in order to serve and protect something or other. It was unlikely he meant this, specific, white dog; yet the tone and emphasis of his delivery seemed to suggest just that.

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Naturally, he had no way of knowing that the white dog had breathed bacteria toward him--and he might not have cared, even if he had known. Instead he inhaled it in ignorance, pale eyes watching her steadily as she approached.

When she moved, and it was not cowering and snarling, he was struck by her elegance--not in the way of a creature seeking a mate, but as a beautiful spire of ice or crystal might be admired. She was rather perfect, he noted, and then he dismissed the thought as unimportant, bar the idea that it might bring her undue attention.

When she spoke, he inclined his head slightly, half-bowing it in obedient acknowledgement.

"The dog will walk with you," he answered quietly--and then padded up alongside and slightly behind her, close but not crowding, sparing one glance back to be sure that Rafael was not in pursuit.