He had no reply for her of any substance. He offered only a growl and a sneer that showed bone white fangs. Then, because he still could, he turned his back on her stalked away, back to his coffin. The hound laid down beside it, head between his paws, a warning rumble reverberating deep inside of his chest. He wished to be left alone. She could either acquiesce, or she could torture him, as it seemed her ancestor must have. Let her tender human conscience, if she had one, make the choice. He would have no willing part in this charade.