Outside the realm of the wolves who run the night, as the those who changed their shape with the moon who had raised him and a good portion of the Wolves themselves were, the Huntsman had little love of magic. Of course, neither did he have much love of humans and their concept of humanity without honor, but his allegiance was owed to Caesar with the agreement that the wolves be kept safe.

He had little personal rancor for the woman he spoke to then, for all her strangeness and fangs. While there was nothing on his face then that suggested he wholly believed her, let along anything like innocence on her face, he nodded. "See that it stays that way."

With one hand, he pulled his bow from where it had been looped around his back and retrieved an arrow to make ready. "When the clouds pass across the moon, we go. Understood?" He waited only for an acknowledgement before he moved on to assure that the others were ready as the light of the full moon above faded with each passing moment, eaten up by cloud cover. When all was dark, he brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a short, high whistle to signal the attack.