Larksong Grotto distilled by time

Her chipper response caused his smile to widen, though Phares continued to take in her features with a studious gaze. He had never seen such a wolf with her colouring. Her eyes were like the dying light when Raas set for the day, a wonderful colour, rivalled only by the purest of them all — blue and gold. He wondered at what made her appearance so, but withheld his questions; as a newcomer she surely had some of her own.

"My name is Phares, priest of the Daystar," he answered with a respectful bow, before glancing back at his hind leg and shaking his head gently. "No, I will be fine." He was touched by the concern, but the wound was only minor, the waters would heal it, or so the man assumed. He turned back to Damaris, noting the faint scent of the Grand Vicar upon her coat. "You have only recently joined our flock," he noted with a tilt of his head.