It would be a stretch to say Beck had a sixth sense that set off an alarm in his head when a single paw stepped even an inch over their border; it was more realistic to assume that the poltergeist obsessively stalked throughout the territory's edges, sniffing out unfamiliar creatures, hunting them down, and subtly herding them into one of his traps with intentional wig snaps and other subliminal warnings. The same method used to track Lunafreya, and eventually bash her senseless with a rock. Starrynight was clueless about hiding his trail -- mainly because the cat was practically a beacon from miles away through the dense undergrowth. Not to mention, limping never did help someone's stealth. Yet the other leader wasn't the only one limping. Beck himself had resorted to hobbling around, poorly-bandaged paw tucked up against his chest and stained with black blood. His harmful fun had turned quite sour when Morgan got the bright idea to impale his wrist with ice, of all things. A meeker, sensible part of him accepted the consequence, but the other parts watched the samoyed much more closely now with narrowed eyes and a restrained sneer. His gait hampered by his inability to put weight on a repairing limb, Beck was slow in his pursuit, but steady nonetheless.

      Despite Fenrisulfr dwarfing him like an elephant to a mouse, he still skulked from the bracken with whatever dignity he had left -- if he even had any in the first place -- and a malice-filled giggle at Starry's shredded ankle. Grimy chin tilted upwards to glare Starry in the eyes, scarred lips curled to offer a snarling grin and to bare his sharkish teeth. Threatening mannerisms were probably lost on the otherworldly feline, so he would have to resort back to more sophisticated techniques to get it through his head that he wasn't welcomed. "What d'ya freaks want now?" The mangy feline spat in contempt, hooked claws kneading the damp earth in anxiety. First the girl, then that one prick, and now the dullest knife in the drawer. Lantern-like eyes glanced back up at Fenrisulfr, his muddied hackles twitching as he considered the possibility of assassination and where to hide a body, never once considering that the entire affair was his fault.

    His plans of solving all his problems with a simple, clean homicide where cut short as Starrynight attempted to look professional. But that's so bo-o-oring, His thoughts whined in vain, as his grimy apparition gave a ripple of acceptance. The added presences of Belladonna and the overzealous fellow who he assumed was the Killian overheard in passing conversations managed to restrain him from shoving Starry down and rubbing his nose in the mud, but if the moment would last was unlikely. A repressed part of his mind reminded him that he was supposed to be taking care of all the pathetic creatures in his group and earning their trust, not leading them to their demises so soon. Teeth visibly gritting with a snap of enamel, Beck flattened his ears against his cranium as Starry spoke. He did know, which was why he had been dodging the question since Bastille trampled past their border. Disfigured maw cracking into a sharkish sneer, a tone of oozing mockery wormed into his drawling wheeze, shrill voice rising an octave as he bitterly giggled, "Well wouldja look at that -- we've got ourselves quite the l'il detective here! Caught me red-handed." He lurched forward to take a step with his uninjured paw, attempting to stand right on top of Starry's bloody foot to pin him in place. Even if the other leader yanked his paw away, Beck was awfully close to invading his personal bubble, breathing down his neck with ragged puffs of bone-chilling air. "I've got an idea -- why don'tcha teach your hippies to, ya know, mind their own damn business, and then maybe you'd still have --" Wait, what was her name again? "-- her."

    Even with all his jabs and insults, he still had to address Starry's demands. Twitching his notched ear in thought, the poltergeist paused for a nonexistent heartbeat, licking away the blue slobber dripping down the left side of his chin from his missing cheek. He was an opportunistic bastard; a bloodhound for finding himself chances to benefit, and he just scented out his next trail. Freckled features warping into a wry smirk, and Beck unexpectedly offered, "How 'bout we make a deal? I'll give ya back the gal, and..." His auburn eyes flitted upwards to stare at the swamp's canopy, carefully choosing his bargain before wheezing, "And ya gotta give us somethin' in return. And! I get to go to your l'il camp to take whatever I want."