Deepwood Weald black wings

Ooooh

The scenery rolls by, with scents intermingled here and there yet nothing seemed worthwhile enough to capture her focus for longer than a fleeting second. So far, she was feeling difficult to impress and along with it, the Weald was unremarkable overall as it straddled the line between winter's old decay and the very beginning of spring's bloom. In another week or two with the right amount of warmth, rain, and sunshine she reasoned she may be far more interested in what she could find here but today, distraction pulled more readily.

It's movement on the edge of her periphery that does get her attention, and this alone brings her skimming closer to where she could find out more. By scent, it's only vaguely familiar so she jogs her mind even faster than her feet, but over the years spanning the Teekon, some things are more noteworthy than others. With what she begins to realize, her green eyes narrow into a quizzical squint. 

Sight of the fellow wolf in the woods does well to confirm this, and he is distinct as always. Now knowing that it is him, a relic from the histories, her smooth approach zeroes in although she leaves a handful of body lengths between them. They had been vaguely neutral neighbors before, always kind of kept at arm's length because that was all the further it needed to be. Still, that was so long ago.

Her nose flares and his scent is not as she remembers. Not quite. But, the hints of evergreen and pine's spice on his agouti shades keys her into something else. Neverwinter. "Long time no see," she regards him coolly, poised and neutral but with a marked interest.