Neverwinter Forest strangle thorn

Surprisingly, there hadn’t been much time that had passed before the company of another came into view for the golden lad. His eyes darted upward to catch sight of a sprightly gentleman, also cloaked in a similar color, with a cheery smile on his wolfish features. Sawyer returned the grin, allowing the dark ink of his lips to draw upward at the exclamation that had fallen from the unknown man’s mouth. New blood indeed, he thought in a warped sarcasm. Having been new but still having found no ground within the pack, the Crowfeather man was at bit at a loss. This was the only other face he had met since being accepted into the pack by Scimitar, but it was a joyful face at any rate.
 
“Ah! Yes, ‘m ‘fraid I’m as new as they come,” he drawled in his familiar southern twang. Eyes flitted away out of respect for the male who was of obvious higher rank. “Name’s Sawyer,” the gold-cloaked creature then introduced with a swift bob of his head in the direction of the ground. He had not been raised to be an impolite man, and so he would show this one wolf all the southern hospitality that was engrained in his youthful bones.