Ankyra Sound das klagende lied

Wylla found him entirely by accident. She was neither patrolling nor looking for potential trespassers—she knew they would come, for something about their border scent must have said, "come in, disrespect us, we don't mind!"—but was instead looking to escape. Leading was stressful and despite her usual antics, Wylla wasn't a creature made for dealing well with stress. It made her angry and sullen and hostile, and none of those things combined well with her personality. Or other wolves.

So when she sought to quit the strand and came face-to-face with her doppelganger, down to the blackened mask stretching from nose to ears and bordering a patch of silvery white on the forehead, her first response was to bristle defensively and growl. Who the hell was this guy? Why was he on her borders? Why were there always wolves on her borders? And why did he look so much like her? They could have been twins, but he was probably double her size and his eyes were a stormy lilac that clashed marvelously with her yellows. Her inky ears flew back and she regarded him with a narrow gaze, then grumbled, "don't tell me you're some other long lost brother."