Hello Echo

Poem was a strong she wolf, she’d been raised to know her own power and trained from a young age to be competent in battle. She didn’t pick up on his lingering stare as he admired her either, but she was young and inexperienced. Mostly her mind wondered where his accent was from, his first language couldn’t have been the common tongue. He assured here neither he or anyone else lived here, but there was a glint in his gaze as he mentioned his snowy home.

The eastern lands she was born to were nearly tropical, they got snow but it wasn’t anything compared to the north. If this wolf was from north of the north… She tried not to think about how much snow and cold he’d dealt with through his life. Poem felt out of sorts in his presence, like her skin prickled or her hair stood on end. She couldn’t begin to forget the state her body was in and how much more careful she needed to be.

She tried to ignore herself and swallowed lightly as her attention fixed on Sparhawk as he introduced himself. The man retrieved a container from what she assumed to be where he intended to sleep. Even through the skin she could smell the alcohol. The young Destruction had never tried to get drunk, she’d been too busy with the tragedies in her life, training, devoting herself to her pack. Poem didn’t often take time to herself, so she hesitated in accepting the offering. She was welcome to remain, and she couldn’t say that she didn’t enjoy his odd company. She never wanted to leave Abaven again, but maybe some outside experiences would do her well.

Her blue and lavender eyes didn’t shift from the skein even as Sparhawk continued talking, he asked why she would be so far from her home. The girl finally decided to take a light swig from his mead, she was chilly and if the drink would ward off the cold… Poem did well to heed his warning too, and only too enough to feel the warmth travel down her neck and settle into her belly. It wasn’t a terrible experience.

”I am a little far from home,” had she not practically explored all of Boreas when Motif went missing she would have been worried about being on her own. She could protect herself though. ”My grandmother is very elderly. She can’t go out as much to gather clay for pottery. I’ve been out searching for rare veins.” Poem told him as she settled back onto her haunches. Her icy blue hips rested comfortably on the cave floor as she wrapped her plush tail around her paws.

His sharp glance was returned to her, and in the warmth of the alcohol her heart jumped a beat. She hid it well, but she couldn’t hide her pale cheeks from flushing to a rose color as he complimented her voice. ”Oh, thank you.” She replied humbly with a bow of her head. ”You have a nice singing voice as well.” Poem offfered back, tipping her blue and lavender gaze to meet his. ”We sound nice together.”