that thieving bastard

She'd been so distracted by the eyes, she almost missed the sabres. They too were as hard as gems. A startling and unnatural glint of crystal beneath the woman's muzzle. She did not consider her beauty a gift, and she wondered somewhat regretfully if her own horns were as eye-catching. 


When the giant of a wolf stepped forward, she fought the instinctive urge to bear her neck and lower herself to the other. Some instincts were difficult to overcome, but she forced herself to hold steady regardless. “I would like that” she said, aiming for a thoughtful tone. She was deeply fascinated by the crystals that adorned this wolf. But more than that, she had chosen not to live in the comforts of the Hallows for a reason. While she would have happily stepped into the roll of their cool and maid, she found herself desiring more in life. She had been to so many places in her life, and had seen none of them. She wanted… she wasn't even entirely sure. Facing her birth mother had been terrifying and satisfying in ways she never would have expected. 


“Did you have a camp nearby?” She asked, wondering if the other wolf had already chosen a spot to settle in for the night.