Wolf of Promise, Wolf of Providence.
For the last time, her call vibrated in the summer-rain air over the river.
I call, I call.
Her summoning jutsu. Her heavenbourne plea. Though her wafting scent continued to bring attention on its own, she continued to sing for those whom her trail could not touch. And while she preferred the intimacy of night, this time it was late in the day -- the atmosphere misted by a light drizzle.
This was night day three of three; she would appraise any who ventured close, if they were to be found, and on the fourth night she would choose the father of her children, should any of them appeal to her nature.
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