sign of the times

It seemed to put him at ease, his expression changing before her very eyes as he started to agree, describing how own experiences with strange encounters. He mentioned a wolf whose hair flowed long, glowing like the moon and her first thought was he’d been graced by the very presence of an Ancient. Perhaps she had actually died, and was looming in the afterlife where the Ancients battled for the rule and love of their subjects. It was a thought that she would dwell upon later. “Glowing white fur?” She asked in disbelief. She knew she wasn’t dead; she still felt pain.

Despite a frosty start, she found herself enjoying the company of Askan, watching as he carefully mulled over his words. He was going to give her the tea. Ashen Armada, or Ashen, haughty pricks. She kept a straight face, though amusement was evident. Why did she get the feeling he wasn’t the most social of all the wolves in these strange lands. He went on to dismiss Motif’s fear as nothing, and Rhae considered that he may be right… still, a strange gut feeling pulled; she didn’t think it was nothing, not when she’d seen such genuine fear in the woman’s eyes.

She wasn’t about to argue, simply offering a nod. “You’re right. Strange land probably means strange fears we won’t understand as well.” She offered insightfully. “What did they do to earn the title of haughty pricks?” She couldn’t help but let the question fall off her maw.