The Sentinels an invocation

Sorry, not sorry. Here comes some of the welcome wagon.

A howl went up for his father—but the swarthy man trailed toward the call as well, for nothing more than to satiate his own curiosity. Lasher was a kindly man, and the wolves of Donnelaith were more than capable of protecting their borders. Yet if another was to enter their ranks, Constantine wished to familiarize himself with them as well.
 
The caller had been the demure Frenchman, and as he came to view, the swarthy wolf’s muzzle tipped in a quiet and amicable greeting. At first, it seemed as if Aria had returned – and the boy was tempted to redirect his route and find himself elsewhere and away from her presence, given the unwelcoming stare she had pressed upon him.. yet this girl was not her – the scent alone adjusting his flicker of nervousness and stirring a gentle smile. He was not the man they called for, and as such, his own form remained neutral, not making claim to any rank within the pack. Instead, he skirted forward, tipping his nose to brush against Renoir in a friendly greeting, though remaining silent.