Hushed Willows We are never belated

Constantine studied the wolf he had come upon, noting the genial posture and ease with which the stranger approached. His approach was cautious – his tail giving a slow sweep in the air behind him, and Constantine’s own ears perked forward in attention, his nostrils flaring as he tentatively took in the scent of the other – rogue, he believed, but remained uncertain, as this side of the mountain was unfamiliar to him.
 
There was a decadent pause as both wolves regarded each other in friendly hesitation, and as Constantine’s form relaxed, his own tail began to beat through the air slowly in silent acceptance. “You from around here?”