the sorting hat

Cas was tall enough to pass for a grown wolf, if not for the skinny gangliness of his young form. perhaps he would not have Constantine's power, or Eilidh's grace, but he made up for that with brazen curiosity. It carried him over the borders into a new place, rife with a variety of scents. A whisper into his sister's pale ear had told of his adventure; if @Eilidh wished to come, she would.

"Whoa," the boy muttered to himself, scuffing his paws in the dirt. He snuck a look behind him; no one was there, and so he pressed on with gently shaking steps.