Sun Mote Copse It's going down, fade to Blackstreet

Sully was a dense sort of wolf, and when he didn't see anyone directly in his line of sight, he thought he was good. No one saw, he thought, and silently had a small moment of dancing with himself where he pranced his feet and waved his tail. 'Course, that only lasted as long as it took the sneaky Arunik'ra to speak. When words cut poignant through the silence of the wood, Sullivan jumped nearly two feet into the air with a shrill yelp and his tail sought his belly as he landed and twirled.

It took him nearly a turn and a half to spot her, red-haired and resplendent among the trees. Jaw dropping, almost, and Sullivan's jaw did drop, but he composed himself quickly enough. "Err, yes, hello," he squeaked, fidgeting in place. "Um well, you see, uh... there was a spirit! Yes! The tree spirits whispered to me that I must go there... um... to you!" Hastily he arranged himself into the posture of a supplicant, a perfect little beggar boy, and began a slow crawl toward Arunik'ra whilst wetting his lips obsessively. Like a freak. But that shit worked on lead wolves, right?

"They told me of a great and... uh... wondrous woman of the woods who, ah, commands them!" Yes, yes, so goooood, he commended himself. Surely she would believe him. Everyone believed him and his spirit talking, or that's what he told himself at night anyway. He was a bit of a lackwit, it was undeniable, but maybe she was a lackwit too. A dumbass could hope.