Wheeling Gull Isle In the Gallows

A new scent waft through her nostrils as Ypres was falling asleep in one of the dens. She stretched and wandered out of the den towards the scent. It was a familiar smell, one that she had come acquainted once before when she was a small puppy. Years had passed without seeing her uncle Blaqwynter, as he obviously was not thriving within the pack when she met him. He would come and go, but his visits were swift and rare; therefore it Ypres was only able to meet him once in her life time, and she grew into forgetting about him.

She followed the trail and soon spotted the male as she took Alpha position. Tail arched over spinea, ears perked forth, eyes adverted and focused upon the target which lay ahead. A growl emitted her chords.

Who are you? What do you want?

She twitched her nose as she lift her skull to have a better smell of him from where she stood. The Alpha offered an uneasy glare; she looked at him long and hard. He just seemed so familiar!