Grouse Thicket Queen of Diamonds

The wraith sat motionless, even when a flash of movement in the corner of her eye warned of the possible approach of another. Moments slipped by, and finally, a wolf slipped into the clearing. Pelt the colour of stone, eyes the colour of summer leaves, he certainly was what might be referred to as handsome. He held himself in the way of a warrior, feature rugged and handsome. But the femme glanced over these features with interest, but nothing more. A wolf was more, much more, then his features. 

She rose to her paws with practised grace, slipping closer to the wolf until they were merely a few tail lengths apart. Her brilliant silver eyes looked over him briefly, noting the advantages he had and those she had. He was taller, muscular, which perhaps did not allow him the same agility and speed she possessed. It would have to be seen should that be the case, however. 

She dipped her head to him in greeting, not speaking. The purpose of this meeting had already been set, no need to reaffirm the circumstances with words. Instead, she settled into her stance, relaxed and attentive, eyes locked on him. She would wait for him to make the first move, this male, and judge him thus.