Meadowlark Prairie turn your wounds into wisdom

The mismatched pair of eyes swiftly snapped upward and onto the cat. His tufted ears swiveled on his skull and pointed back. The thick muscles in his body tensed and the lynx wondered if the wolf who spoke before him represented the silver or the orange eye on the boy’s face. Though he did not truly know the character of the canine well enough to make such an assumption, Bajeera’s people and his culture were superstitious beings, and the mismatched gaze of the black and white brute was a sign of multiple souls. It was something strange for the Gul’Dan to witness it so closely and to be so involved with one who had been granted the honor of housing more than one. Bajeera’s own destiny was great in and of itself, but he often marveled at the lives of others.
 
Flicking his ears back so that they sat erect, the feline’s mouth seemed to curl upward into a soft smile. “Bajeera wants nothing. Bajeera was only passing through,” he purred to the wolf with a curious lilt to his voice. The poisonous green of his gaze was still curiously playing with the features of the canine, but in a manner that would – hopefully – not be perceived as threatening.