Golden Glade Night's Brought New

Though vigilant, Darsal knew she would be met before she reached the base of the territory, and thus wasn't affronted when the ground seemed to thunder nearby, and an inky, orange mass of a wolf burst through the brush.
She turned in a less-than-swift, wary manner, facing her encounter. His growl gave her the initial impression of the anger preceeding attack, but he kept his ground, standing at her own height, an oddity for the Wilds. His eyes were level to hers, but his muscular build was closer to the point of thin, and she assumed that he hadn't had the relatively secure diet she'd once had. This was not the wolf who had howled before.
His words could have induced a haughty retort from other wolves, but Darsal was in the habit of reading into others' words before replying. His initial remark of irritation appeared as a guard from his internal thoughts, perhaps those of possible inquisition.
Charley's identification of himself as a ruler intrigued Darsal; maybe she'd come across just the right wolf. She tried to speak in a low tone of minimal interest, but a more hopeful note escaped impermissibly. Greetings, she said. I must apologize for my intrusion, but I came only with the intention of joining your cause. I heard a call from outside the territory, so I can assure you, I mean no harm.