The Sentinels an invocation

For Rowan, it was easy to see just as Renoir could - leaves furled proudly from the tall trees, plants and animal alike to call the forest home. Something beautiful, no doubt, and she could picture it in each season. Beautiful, in the way that no two forests were ever alike. Rowan lifted her gaze briefly to the figure of the dark wolf, putting the name to the body only to find that Renoir had assumed incorrectly. She gave him a little smile, hoping to be comforting until they were greeted by another dark figure and she felt in her the same sort of pull that had lead her to the lands. His question was immediate and logical, Rowan's gaze still at her feet though she briefly lifted her eyes to meet Lasher's. Just a moment, just a spark and her gaze had returned to the earth. 

"Rowan," The woman began, her voice just a hint of rasp to the edge of it, something from ages and times long since passed. "Engendré par Ellie Mayfair du quartier français." While it meant a great deal to her she wondered if either of the other wolves would even care.