Spirit of Winter
Attention was drawn towards the phantom almost instantly, met with a pair of cerulean eyes. Well, if that wasn't the prettiest thing the young shaman had seen in a while. Like the lights under Kennnocha lake, skittering along with your pawsteps. Yet another striking feature drew the willowy wolf closer, one step, and then another. Were those.. teeth? Gods, this must be some sort of spirit. “I’m a wolf. Just a little different, is all. My father’s the brightest red you could imagine.” She said, soft vocals lilting. A gentle wag of her tail let those endless strands waver in the breeze. The giant narrowed mismatched eyes, dubious at best. “I’m Aurielle… I lead the pack a ways to the south east of here, on the other side of the desert.” Silken mane fluttered in the wind as she tilted her muzzle in the aforementioned direction. Things were only getting more interesting. Based on scent alone, there was no way this female was all that much older than herself. Yet... a leader? How strange. “Thought I’d take a stroll and get to know the lands around me better." The more she spoke, the more the young wolf noticed an accent. Where was that from? "Everyone calls me Marvel," the champagne giant offered by way of introduction, crown lowering in greeting. It was only then that another few steps were taken. Closed the distance by just a foot or so. Da had always made a point of how important manners were. Mama was royal, so she impressed the same values upon all three siblings. "I came from the north to see what wolves lived in the west." A wry smile twisted pallid lips. "It was worth the trip." Rough accent was thickened by mirth, a small chuckle uttered from rosen maw. "Does the rest of your pack share your.. uniqueness?" she questioned, brow quirked.
"speech" |