The Sentinels birds flying high

A warmth spread through his chest as she mentioned her love of his stories. It was pleasing for the bard to know that his tales had spurred interest in his younger kin. The children had been fond of him on many occasions. He could recall – with absolute nostalgic delight – the frigid winter nights when they would find themselves tucked deep into the warmth of their den. The bear had taken it upon himself to tell great tales of battle and victory. The children would gather around his massive frame with wide eyes and wagging tails. All of them had longed to hear the adventures of the soturi. The children would dream of joining the wars and wandering into their own homes with stories of their victories. Lærke had seen many of them grow to run alongside him, and had even witnessed the passing of a select few. Still, it was with great honor that they took up their fangs and claws and made themselves one with the moonlit wolves.
 
“You have heard so many of my stories,” he responded with a fading smile. “If you might stay, you are certain to hear plenty more.” It was a hope that the charcoal-painted girl would join him in the ranks of the healing forest. They were not, by any means, nomadic creatures. Lærke had traveled away from their home simply to offer his skills as a warrior. Having found a pack of healers was not the best means of demonstrating his talents, but he had been lured in by their beauty and the strange means in which they had constructed their pack. He was certain that Lotte would find them equally interesting.
 
The pale wolf Deirdre had not been the only one to arrive along the borders. The leader of their brood – Aria – had found her way there as well, and stood as a silent guardian. His pale gaze traveled toward her, and the hulking bear lowered himself into a bow of respect before he lifted himself upward and flagged his tail. “You are lucky, Lotte. Even their johtaja has come to hear your call.” A smirk curled his dark lips upward and crinkled the edges of his eyes as he turned them on the young rogue. The opportunity was there, and if she were to grasp it, Lærke knew he would rejoice.