Otter Creek get ready to roll

It was a delicate dance of give and take. There was respect, foremost, to those who were rapt with a feral heartbeat. Perhaps it had always been the reason for the wolf's lack of dedication anywhere else. It was difficult to pledge fealty and loyalty to those who did not understand the path. Features, though remaining stony, did succumb to the subtle shift of the drifter's posture. Inky ears remained back, a display of respect within their quiet exchange of non-verbal language. Perhaps trust resonated from fiery stare, a shielded curiosity taking wing despite attempts to reign in wanderlust. She was pretty in the way a mountain was carved from a glacier. She had aged manners unlike so many before. She was wild like the wind had spit her from its womb.

Watching. There were many things to watch. It did not strike as poignant to the beast within her presence. The mention of winter prompted no outward response yet insides coiled. There was a faint pride to care for oneself that went back as early as puphood. It was a primal emotion that was current in most individuals. Winter would pillage and ravage anything weaker than it and earth was particularly unwelcome to the weak. "It is," he admitted almost whimsically. The urge to adhere to others was a foreign concept but a looming cloud of necessity. "It will take me with it if I am still alone." It was a curious admittance of weakness. A weakness that seemed completely opposite the well taken care of bear-wolf. It was a known fact that solitary company would be a loner's demise. 

While it wasn't a plea to join — rather a blunt statement of fact — it had properties to open a doorway.