The Sentinels on the pacific

im gonna read everything she says in michonne's voice ok

another joiner. groomed well. quiet. lasher had grown grim in the wake of tachyon's wounded return, angered at the circumstances that had kept him away. his murkwater eyes watched the silent woman from the cover of the thick redwood branches, but he did not move to address her -- not yet.

a trip to the sea was nigh at hand, and, though he hated to think of it, donnelaith might well now be in need of more wolves at their flanks. the spirits roamed this place; he knew them to be here when he had called them wildly to fore with emaleth. perhaps they had adjudged this woman to be worthy.

he let his eyes behold the glint of her eyes and the charcoal sheen of her pelt, now darkening with the lower swing of the sun, and he stepped out into the dusk, plume raised and eyes gentle but questioning.