Dawnlark Plains Don't Accept the Truth

Reek's dissapointed expression soon gave way to a slight smile as he finally got a good look at the coyote. She was patchy, and like him, unkempt and thin. While he was a wolf by blood, there where days when Reek felt himself more like one of these, so called, "lesser breeds." He may have towered over her in height, but Reek found rare empathy in some of their shared traits— like kindred spirts, but over barriers imposed by their difference in species.

He had previously felt this way toward Sart, and he loved her like his own offspring... that is, until she wandered off as Reek figured all coyotes eventually do.  "She was a coyote pup I raised for a time.  She was small, like you," he answered, allowing his tail to resume it's happy wave. "Sart was a playful little bugger.  I miss her dearly." Perhaps it was best not to know the true fate that had befallen the pup in the beginning of winter...

"But, how bout you?" He asked before dipping down into a low play bow. "Are you the playful sort?" His week at the Rise with Saena had set his youthful spirt alight once more and Reek was rearing to engage in play with practically anyone.