Sunset Valley backbone

A figure appeared in that liminal space, a towheaded wolf whose broad shoulders and narrow waist were distinctive even at a distance. More than that, he wore a red mark on one side of his face, its livid color offset by pale eyes. Masquerade watched him move closer, intrigued despite the hunger clawing at her belly.

She was sure she’d never seen him before, though he came from the direction of the rise and when he ventured closer, Masque thought there were familiar scents woven into his. Ignoring the way they triggered a deep sense of yearning in her already protesting gut, she squared her stance.

Her long tail swept the air once, an inquisitive gesture. The Redtail was immensely curious not just because of the stranger’s smell but the stain on his face. She had never met anyone else with a marking so much like her own.

Wondering if she could smooth the slight ruffle of his fur, she called, Hello. I’m Masque, and sipped in a quick breath before pinning on, Redtail.