Altar of Twilight bad company until the day i die

Sigtýr kept moving like that for a few minutes longer, conscious not to wander too far away from his slave wives. They were long out of his sight, and he theirs but they knew not to venture too far for if they did they would be left alone to fend for themselves until he found them or vice versa. They had the choice, of course, but only because he allowed them to. They had proven their loyalty and their desire to stay for the wardog to extend a trust to them and loosen his proverbial hold on them. Not too loose lest they decide to run off, yet he doubted either of them would take the chance. Their good behavior and loyalty earned them rewards, as he watched his father extend to his own slave wives — the ones that came after his mother, that was. The glacier and silver dappled beast caught another scent of the pack housed nearby. Perhaps he was tempting fate by being so close, despite that he and his were no where really near their borders — not that it would have truly stopped him nevertheless. This whiff was particularly strong and as he sniffed eagerly at the perfuming scent his head lifted and his steps ceased as he realized that it was also individualized.

It was stronger because of their wolves was close to him. Sure enough, it did not take long for her form to come into his tarnished gaze. At first, he was slightly taken aback by her appearance, fire kissed but sort of reminded him of a red fox. Kind of, but not quite, though she was clearly a wolf. As his shock burned itself out fascination rushed to fill the crevice in shock's wake. He'd never seen a wolf colored like her before, and he studied her, unabashed, canting his head to the side as he assessed her.

She greeted him, simply, using the common tongue. His common tongue (as his french) wasn't perfect but he understood it well enough to communicate effectively. “Hello,” He parroted her greeting, deep voice lilting with it's accent. She was young, maybe a year old, maybe a little younger. Not too young but not yet a mature woman yet. Still in that cusp of in between, if he had to guess. Her age didn't matter to him, it was of no consequence. Her appearance was unlike anything he'd ever seen on a wolf before and that immediately intrigued him; which was never a good thing. “You are from the pack near here?” Though it was an observation more than it was a question — the wardog could deduce that much on his own even without her verbal confirmation, gesturing absently towards the rise in the distance with his muzzle.