Bearclaw Valley we rush the west in silence

Seeing her now, startled and defensive, did little to warn him away. He could see her plainly despite the gray of the sky and the oncoming dark - she was young. She couldn't have been much older than himself; or maybe it was the nature of the lone wolf to find similarities in others. To crave the attention of whoever they came across. Tsukiko could not speak to his desires; he was merely curious, and made more curious the longer he watched her.

The sky broke - he heard the drops before he smelled anything, numbed to the petrichor that inhabited all paths untraveled at this point. The beast licked his lips (An act of deference? A show of insecurity? Merely to taste the air - or something more foul?) He seemed to extend from there. Reaching with his long steps to close the gap between them, but he kept his head low and snaking close, sniffing the air quite obviously as he did so. She smelled sweet; she smelled of many foreign things, but nothing unpleasant. No warm layers of wolf-scent, only the growing cold of the incliment weather. 

He was almost shy as he crooned a low note to her - an invitation maybe, an instinctual note sung from the heart that would ring true for any wanderer. Stay with me? He could've been asking. Friend? Maybe.