A TREMENDOUS Wall

The old woman wasn’t left to wait for very long, there was a voice from just about the place she was looking, not that she could know for sure. The voice was not from a wolf, but sounded more like little Allen, Poem’s caracal. ”Hello, Natha.” She replied politely, feeling relief course through her veins. The raven and caracal seemed unphased by the woman and continued their little patrols just out of sight. ”My name is Rhythm Destruction,” the old woman offered with a quick nod of her head.

”I don’t mean to be rude, but you aren’t a wolf are you?” She asked with a tilt of her head. Hopefully Natha was just as friendly as she sounded to be.