Walking On Gravestones

He listened patiently to her stammered apologies, brow points lifting, though he knew the expression would go unseen, before he gave a low chuckle, his tone unconvinced. “Blind you may be, but that sharpens your other senses, Lady. When you tripped over our border-stones back yonder, I watched you nose them. Even with your herbs in your mouth, there was no way you could have missed the scents of our members that also mark out our borders with your nose that close to them. And, as a healer, your nose is one of your most important tools for discerning plants and which ones you’re sniffing.”

At her age, which was certainly older than he, he doubted she was inexperienced in healing, or in the ways of wolf life. She smelled to be about the same age as Regulus... five, perhaps? He stepped forward as she stepped back, letting his paws fall heavily enough for a menacing crunch in the snow, though he would use his lithe frame to press her back should she not speed her retreat at hearing the warning steps. “I will repeat my warning, and only once more. Turn back and leave. I will escort you. Do not give me a reason to harm you.”

His tone was unbending, not wavering with any indecision or nervousness. Calm, stern. His scent held no fear, nor anxiety. No weakness. He knew he was a first impression of his pack, and Celestial needed to appear as strong as it was. Otherwise, they’d have loners traipsing all across the lands where they would. Or worse.