Blackfoot Forest America oil lamb

A pale wolf with hypnotically blue eyes and an opalescent smile came to greet them. Wildfire drank in his appearance for a solid beat before lowering her eyes, bowing her head and letting her black tail droop. This must be Kierkegaard, as he specifically mentioned his borders. He seemed amiable enough, if she went by tone and body language, and did not appear in the least threatened by two perfect strangers calling at his borders.

"I'm here as a representative of Drageda. You are familiar with its commander, Thuringwethil?" It was meant as a rhetorical question, as Wildfire knew the two were acquainted and it hadn't yet occurred to her that this might be anyone other than Kierkegaard himself. "I am Wildfire, the pack's Bandrona, and this is my guard, Gavriel. I'm here to inquire about the strength of your claim here in Rosings."