Creating life among the dead

Silence was all that greeted Stolas for a while. Silent as the grave the crypt was. Squinting in the dark and low light until his eyesight began to adjust to where he could see comfortably, the young dire brute wandered down the long corridors and burial chambers one by one. He could no longer follow Widow's scent down here, since it was absolutely everywhere by now. Every breath took through his nose tingled his senses, made his skin feel electric, like something was affecting him at a much baser level. "Widow?" he called out again, his voice echoing off the old stone walls. This time, her voice called back to him from the next room over. Alert and relieved, Stolas picked up the pace and trotted quickly through the stone archways into the farthest burial chamber. There he found his friend, pressed up against the farthest wall with her satchel and a bottle of something in her paws.

"There you are!" exclaimed the relieved lordling with a heavy sigh and thankful smile. He approached her, paws moving slowly across the smooth stone floor, graphite eyes looking her over for any signs of injury. "Is everything all right? I hadn't seen you for a few days, so I went to come check on you, but you weren't home," he explained, her scent pouring off of her stronger than ever and making his head swim in a heady sensation. He hadn't realized his gaze had been lingering on her rump when he was looking her over, but a quick shake of his head snapped him out of his stupor enough to return his eyes back to her face. Her beautiful face, adorned in gold markings. "What are you doing out here?" He stopped a few paces away from her, glancing down at the bottle in her paws. "What have you got there? Is that one of your witch's potions?"

"Stolas"