Redhawk Caldera runner, runner

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When the first thing to approach her was a child, Coysevox began to think she may be a bit delirious. "Je dois devenir fou," she muttered, her ears falling in question of her own sanity—

But the feeling was dispelled the moment she was given an authoritative posture to respond to; for surely a figment of her imagination would not act with such realism.

Red embarrassment flushed the tender flesh on the inside of her ears, and her tail curled in on itself as she acknowledged the speckled girl as her appraiser. She spoke oddly— though anything without a French accent may have seemed misplaced to the yearling from Quebec— but there was no mistaking what she wanted.

"Aye've come to..." she trailed as an adult came into view; a sterling queen whose gaze wanted no nonsense, and whose scent began to overwhelm her by the time she came to stand beside the pack's littlest guardian. Coysevox crouched a little lower.

"Mon nom, my name, is Coysevox. Aye've come to 'ave... asylum? Is zhis word? No? Home, yes, home! I might like zhis to be mine home."


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