The Sentinels The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

Upon closer inspection— or rather, according to the fleeting glances he allowed himself to pass up towards the towering sentinel— he noticed the male was a heavy brown, instead of the black he appeared at a distance. His eyes, too, were a kind sort of blue set into a face that could only be described as roguishly noble. The august swain wagged his tail in soundless thumps against his hind leg, offering the guard a sheepish smile before answering. "I was hoping to find company," he mused; "but I thought I might wait until the morn to disturb your borders." His voice was quiet and just as low, but it lacked a natural rasp, or one of misuse, unlike his present companion. 

At the invitation to relaxed, Flaris' tail begin a swifter pace, now making an audible sound as it swooshed. His shoulders lost all tension he had unintentionally set there, and he could feel his spine ease comfortably out of its rigid bracing. "My name is Flaris," he introduced kindly. "I seek a place to call my home."