Firefly Glen baptized by rock and roll

Harley had left the sanctuary of his mountain for a stroll, but the wolfdog didn't get far before hearing some commotion up ahead. The feathery furred male pushed his way through the brush, his milky undertones and sandy speckling were stark against the shadows of the evening, but it was easier to tell that the dark tips to his fur were not black but indeed a deep russet. His amber eyes were bright and friendly, the colors of autumn dancing in the endless orbs. He caught sight of the multitoned male easily, watching him chase the fireflies. Harley was temped to jump in, but let out a chuff of greetings to see how he'd react.