[I.C.J] precious and fragile things

the wolves howled of their cohesion. they were together a pack, and they protected what was theirs. this place was new for anemone, but it was what she would now call home. she darted toward the stray howl, the voice not one she recognized among the many the l'amour knew when they called to protect the lands and ward intruders away. the gunmetal and cinnamon woman moved with the same grace dovev had. she was growing used to this landscape, though had yet to extensively travel upon the rocky mountains and their jutting ridges. she preferred the ocean and its shores to everything else... but had settled here, because the land beneath the bared tooth of the earth was easy to traverse and where anemone lingered. so it was no wonder that she arrived to the pale wolf in little time at all... with a curious air to her. her plume twitched, but her eyes threatened to lean forward in a show of aggression. he was not too close, but her muscles twitched nonetheless beneath her winter furs; the warmth of her breath emerging from flaring nostrils could be noted in the swell of clouded moisture around them. she does not speak, but her curiosity is quite evident. he had sang with the pack as though he were of the pack... which, as of yet, he was not. and so she draws nearer, tilting her head, though the strength in her stride and the twitching of an ear seems to demand he explain himself to her.