Ravensblood Forest blood flutes

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Olive's call sounded through the towering, bleeding sequoias to the gangster whose ears perked with unbidden curiosity. The origins of her howl came from the borders and though he was weary his trust in Olive drew him along the quickest path to her. The last time she had called for him it had been to induct Dakarai as a Comhlach. Arturo wasn't yet sure how he felt about Dakarai but he admired the dark man's honesty, at the very least. Though her call had not sounded urgent, there was a increase to the gangster's heartbeat as he approached, wondering if she had been accosted by Furiosa's murdered. The stranger who was still at large. Arturo did not sleep well at night, unsettled by it. Since finding her corpse there had been no more corpses, no unfamiliar scents trailing into Teaghlaigh's claimed lands. As suspicious as the Ceannasach could be at times he did not find comfort in this. The patrols remained vigilant and his wolves on high alert, and advised, if it could be avoided, to not leave the borders. Keeping this leash on Chusi was much easier (or so he thought anyway) then it was the adult members of the Family but then again not one of them struck him as restless and reckless as his daughter.

His pace slowed as he approached the pair, fiery red-orange gaze finding Olive first before it slid, burning to the strange male who stood beside her. Another lover? A friend? A family member? Not murderer, and if he was Arturo doubted Olive was aware of it, but the scent did not strike the coywolf as familiar. “Olive,” Arturo encouraged her to explain who this was and why she had brought him here — especially at such a tense time when Arturo would find himself hard pressed to let strangers so close to his beloved Family. He did not speak the words, but they were implied heavily in the deep, accented, smoky timbre of his voice. For now, he would listen. Only after they had offered him an explanation and purpose would he judge.

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