winds of change

The Warlord approached the borders of his woods. Answering the first summons at these borders. Likely the wolf wouldn’t know the significance of the moment. This evidence that showed new blood would find them here. He surveyed the tawny wolf as she dropped her eyes, and he came to a stop a comfortable distance from her.

He had caught faint traces of her scent on his grandson's coat, and it was easy to surmise who she was. Though Basilisk had mentioned nothing of any inclination she might have to join. “You must be Wren. My grandson has spoken highly of your hunting skills. You wish to join the Armada?” He asked softly.


"Speech"