Birds of a Feather

Wandering along the mountain trail, Satira caught scent of another wolf somewhere close by. Her senses immediately went on high alert—not because she was afraid the stranger would be a threat, but because she didn't know if they were or not. Her brush with death at a young age had left her cautious and guarded, especially when out on her own. She spotted the wolf—another girl around her age—sitting on the edge of the cliffside path just a ways ahead. She looked up at Satira and the two made eye contact for a brief moment, sapphire blue eyes meeting the wolf-dog's sky blue. Nervousness touched her heart, but Satira steeled herself on. She was a wolf of Fatalis and Klein stock, dammit, and she wouldn't be intimidated off by a stranger on a mountain!

As she came closer, her floppy ears bobbing in time with her steps, Satira greeted the anxious looking fae with a polite tip of her muzzle, but no smile. Her mother never smiled, so she didn't see a reason to either. "Hello," she greeted the stranger in her sweet voice, looking to see if she could carefully maneuver around her without bumping into her on the narrow path. "Um... you're not thinking about jumping, are you?" It was a bold and direct question, but Tira didn't know if she needed to try and help the stranger or if she was about to watch a wolf die today.

"Satira"