He padded through the territory, black pelt soaking up the sun, mismatched eyes of gold and blue scanning the scenery around him, both enjoying the beauty of Valhalla?s land, and watching for dangers that could endanger the pack. He paused a moment, inhaling the breeze, letting the wind tell him any news.
Valhalla was truly a wonderful home to live in, and the fact that he was now an uncle buoyed his happiness ever more. His nieces and nephews were an endless source of fascination to him, and he visited often to play with them, and give Erani and Nova some quality time to themselves. He absolutely adored them. Obsidian seemed to love them too, letting them crawl all over her and ignoring the prey instincts that should have sent the horse running away in a fright.
An unfamiliar scent brushed over his muzzle, feminine, touched with lavender, and the spicier ginger inflection. He turned his head, facing into the wind, to better sample the new smell. It was a younger female, perhaps two or three years of age, by her scent. She was healthy, and had no smell of any injuries that he could tell.
He waited for the call of a wolf wishing to join, as most usually did when they came upon the borders. No call came, and the mismatched eyes narrowed. So far as he knew, due to Collision?s errors, they were on watch for any danger. A stranger that didn?t call could be a threat.
He turned to face the wind with the rest of his large frame, white four point star marking wrinkling between his eyes as his brow furrowed. After a moment, in which no higher ranked member?s scent added itself to the newcomer?s, he took off at a swift, fluid lope. Despite his older age, he wasn?t feeling the aches yet. Erani was ahead of them, plying him with herbs that would keep him healthy. She may not be allowed to care for the rest of the pack, unless bidden or requested, but that didn?t stop her from caring for her family.
He arrived, ears forward, body relaxed and unthreatening. Mismatched eyes took in the young fem, assessing her. She was a bright, pure white, with blue eyes. She was small; he towered over her at his thirty-eight inches, and likely outweighed her as well.
His assessment done, he nodded lightly, then spoke, his baritone voice and British accent neutral, neither threatening nor overly friendly. ?Good day, miss. What is your name, and your business on the Borders of Valhalla?? If she wanted to join, it wasn?t up to himself; he would call in a higher ranking warrior to see her and make their assessment of her, and decide if she was fit to the pack.
He stood at a distance, calmly awaiting her reply.
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