Ghostly Arrival

Sage green eyes would follow the monochromatic fae's movements along the edge of their territory, her coat almost blending amongst the snow-covered ground. Azrael observed the woman from a distance, standing still where he had been gathering valerian root from the loamy soil. She was a lithe thing, curvy in all the right places, young and beautiful. She seemed to be skirting the Syndicate's lands, just barely scraping by the edge of their territory. He'd seen her before. She had been part of the little hunting party he'd joined. Was she a spy sent from one of the other packs? The brute surely hoped so! The second she set paw over that boundary, he could be on her then, taking her for questioning. The idea tantalized Azrael as he imagined getting to play with her.

As much as he'd hoped for her intrusion, the woman denied his wishes, keeping safely to the other side of the border, even if just by mere inches. The large Saxe brute remained still, content to simply observe her for now. What was she up to? Who was she? Her head turned upward, looking at something up in the trees. A crow's caw broke the stillness of the winter day. Ah, she'd found a bird. Az waited and watched from the shelter of the pine thicket while she stared at the bird until it flew down to her level. Unable to resist the temptation of engaging with such a curious wolf, Azrael finally began to move, the trained steps of a hunter moving almost silently across the ground save for the soft crunching of snow under his feet. He wanted to speak to her; to hear her voice and find out who she was. Unraveling a mystery was one of the greatest delights in life!

Azrael came near enough to hear her speaking to the crow, the lilt of an accent in her voice catching him by surprise and delight. A crooked smile played on the violet and ebony brute's lips as he approached her, remaining squarely inside Syndicate borders all the while. His steps were deliberate, crunching the snow louder to announce his presence. No sense in scaring the poor dear. "Crows are one of the most intelligent birds known to wolfkind," he mused aloud, looking between the fae and the corvid. "It seems this one has taken a shine to you. Treat it well, and you've made a friend for life." Azrael's gaze settled on the stranger at the border, considering her with a cursory glance and a curious tilt of his head. Who was she and what was she doing here?

"Azrael Saxe"