Porcupine Ridge I'm outside the door, invite me in

Capriccio introduced herself and him to the golden-orange female, and his muzzle tipped down in a subtle greeting, but even though his position had been disclosed, he made no move to step ahead. His toes idly flexed where they were as the alpha female went on to inquire further about the loner's knowledge of plants. He, too, was curious, although such interviews were not his style. He was mistrusting in that way. He knew that a wolf could weave any number of colorful tales, painting themselves in a favorable light just so they may be accepted, and under winter's influence, desperation often set in further encouraging the exaggeration of truth.

That was not to say he mistrusted this female; she seemed perfectly genuine and friendly. It only meant that what she said here would not carry far; her actions in the coming week would determine whether she was permitted to stay or not. He had seen and heard enough to welcome her, but he held his tongue to see if Capriccio had more questions, or felt the same.