Ravensblood Forest featherlight

Right on cue, Constantine made his presence known. He greeted the lean male by her side first, acknowledging him with a dip of his proud head, then shifted his tangerine gaze toward her to look upon her with a familiar warmth. Durnehviir smiled softly for him, tail giving a gentle sweep at her hocks, though it stilled when he turned his focus to the two newcomers.

Her own eyes followed and the swarthy leader sidled alongside her to address them, champagne orbs lingering with curiosity on the darker of the pair. She wondered inwardly if perhaps they'd crossed paths during her travels with Viinturuth, but couldn't place the name. Snowe. An odd name for a wolf bearing a pelt of charcoal, though was prompt to remind herself that despite her own fiery hues, she'd been named for a dragon who breathed frost, not flames.

Samothes introduced the duo, with each of them chiming in to support his claim. Durnehviir, however, remained entirely silent as she awaited Constantine's judgement. She thought offering them a place among their ranks was a good idea; Ravensblood's wolves were strong, but their numbers low. Rest would surely be the best thing to aid in the injured she-wolf's recovery and time would allow her the opportunity to play her own role in the pack.