The Sentinels birds flying high

[hoards all the Donnelaith wolves!] I am so excite!

Lotte had guessed correctly — her beloved big brother was the sole soturi within this enchanted wood. Quite honestly, “Then they are fortunate,” she said, and her argent eyes glittered with the conviction of her praise as a warm smile shaped her delicate features. As a chuckle spilled from Lærke’s smirking lips like the roll of a timpani, Lotte rounded her mercury eyes and arranged her visage into a winsome pout. “Tiedän, tiedän,” she acquiesced, her jollity breaking through her carefully crafted expression as she laughed in turn, a lilting alto ripple of mirth, “but kaipaan tarinasi.” Like all of her siblings, the rogue spoke plainly when it came to matters of the heart and her devotion to her eldest sibling was plain. Aside from her kaksonen Dagfinn, Lærke was the one she found herself closest to.

Before the quicksilver girl could speak further, an unfamiliar wolf melted from the boughs of the towering sequoias — she did not merely walk but appeared conjured from the very winds. Emerald eyes, bright with curiosity and youth, were made more striking by the dramatic sweeps of obsidian that lined them; her voice was a melody in and of itself as she posed a gentle question. Fittingly, Lærke made the introductions — although Lotte was not shy and would have willingly spoken for herself, she found this segue quite genteel. “Deirdre,” she said in her low, rich timbre, bending her head and offering an elaborate bow — one foreleg sword-straight, the other daintily curled, “yes! I have found minun jättimäinen karhu of a brother and my heart is full of happiness.” Her charcoal-feathered tail lashed the air joyously as she butted the broad bridge of her muzzle against the chocolate-colored wolf’s shoulder.

Another unfamiliar female materialized from the dappled green and brown wood then, as white as the snow and ice of the Ansbjørns’ tundra home. Her bearing was regal, her densely-feathered tail flagging the air like a banner; instinctively, Lotte offered another gracious, sweeping bow with her right leg curled demurely, her glittering mercury eyes drifting askance out of respect. Symmetrical, triangular ears capped a face whose sharply etched features and ice-blue eyes seemed limned in austerity, but the smile that ghosted across the coal-lined lips appeared to soften them. Without hesitation, “Rakeet, comrade!” Lotte ventured with characteristic straightforwardness. She was capable of stealth and subtlety as befitted her role, moving in the shadows to strike with deadly accuracy at her foes, but her true personality tended to be more candid. Indeed, Lotte played so many parts when acting out her singing roles or acting diplomacy that it was hard to pin her down as any one thing. “I am Lotte Ansbjørn, the small sister of this great hulking bear in your ranks.” Argent eyes slid sidelong to regard Lærke with mischievous fondness.