Dragoncrest Cliffs If only I can be remembered

As they waited and Kendra sat down, he shifted his weight around, making sure that they were touching at all times. It was but a little gesture in comparison to the intensity of the cold, but it was better than nothing. He’d likely do whatever it took to keep her comfortable, guided by memories and feelings from a past life—well, what felt like one, that is. Neither of them were the same as they’d been before, and he knew that, but it had not altered the way in which he looked at her. From hatred to tolerance, and tolerance to a real friendship, he’d grown around her, and wanted to continue to grow. It made him feel uneasy, the idea of approaching an unknown territory and meeting with those that led it, but he swallowed his discomfort for her. Alexander had always been arrogant, but even he knew that he couldn’t provide for her nearly as well as a pack might during the winter months.

When another wolf crossed into the scene, he’d leaned closer towards his friend, weary of the stranger and what they might do. Their posture made their importance within the pack obvious, as well as made him more aware of his own stance. After being reminded that he wasn’t there for himself, keeping his tail from lifting had become easy enough, leaving it to fall slack between his hocks. With his ears pulled back, Xan waited to see if the woman would speak first—but she hadn’t. Again, he shifted his weight around, not entirely sure about what all he was supposed to share. Choosing to stick to the basics—because simplicity lowered the chance of failure, he thought—the yearling said, “My name’s Xan, and this is my friend, Kendra.” Introductions: check. “We were traveling, but need a home to stay at now,” he continued. “We can do work for your pack if there’s space for us.” As he spoke, his voice both elevated and trailed off at various points, lacking familiarity with the process of joining a pack.