Porcupine Ridge birthday in noir

A chilly zephyr buffeted her coat, and Diane gave herself a warming shake, breathing heavily out her mouth as she began to ruefully reflect on how alone she was. Loneliness had a way of making one less picky about who they shared company with, and there was no desire in Diane to share company with anyone in particular, as evidence of this. Just about anyone would lift her spirits in that moment. And her unspoken prayers were acknowledged by the sudden scent of prey and an approaching female.

Noticing nothing strange with the fact that most of her packmates were female, Diane's tail began to wag, tight and swift against her legs. A small whine eked through smiling teeth, and she ambled towards the higher ranked female with her body low and accepting. This female was pale like Illea, but with gray patches along her petite frame, and scars across her muzzle that appeared wholly out of place beneath gentle eyes like two oases in the ranging clouds of an early storm.


"I'm Diane," she introduced quietly, standing near the she-wolf, anxious to be accepted but respectful of her space.