Blackfeather Woods is this a dagger

It was with a wariness that he regarded the stranger upon their borders. If he had ever known her then he did not remember. He watched from the shadows as she stalked along the borders, ragged ears folding back and forward again until eventually he stepped from the shadows. He wondered what she was doing here, what she wanted.

He did not speak when he stepped forward, merely stood, body language neutral as his mismatched eyes fell upon her inquiringly. He was no one of note here, now, and did not really care for anything but a handful of wolves, much less himself, so did not care to greet her in the way a leader might.