Totoka River you can be an angel of mercy

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Thexxan held dutifully still as Izel’s — the Nahuatl word for unique unsure what to call her since she hadn’t given him a name — muzzle neared his face. To Thexxan she appeared rather unabashed about being near enough to touch males while all females he’d ever been around only allowed it (not including the reprimanding clamp of jaws to muzzle, etc) when they became receptive and even then it was only the Gladiator that had won her favor that was given such esteemed permissions. Izel did not touch but he felt the warmth of her breath as it fanned against him. Aside from potentially using his scent to familiarize herself with him he wasn’t overly sure what Izel hoped to gleam from it. His natal pack was far from these Wilds and her recognition of them was unlikely. No doubt the Amazon women of the Rise would accept her as they did all females but it would not be Thexxan that led Izel there. Though he was more baffled by her than he was anything else there was a kindness in her that, selfishly, the doctore did not want the Amazons to snuff out.

He watched as she built another mountain of snow upon his paws and unsettled it with another whuff. Just as she had the first time. He watched the cascade of the soft, cold and powered snow over the ink of his paws for a long moment, strangely focused before his gaze flickered, discreetly back to her, habitually hesitant she would snap at him for being so bold. “You don’t speak do you?” Thexxan asked softly, hoping that he did not offend her with his brazen question. At this point, the confirmation that she did not speak was staring him blatantly in the face. She was vocal enough …just not with words. “Can I call you Izel? In the native tongue of my people it means unique.” It was this question that Thexxan asked with uncertain bashfulness, a softness meant to appease in case she didn’t like the idea or the name. Regardless, he thought that it suited her.

[/td][/tr][/table]