The Floodlands With a melody from the mourning band

Darcia closed his teeth together when the voice of another rose an octave above his. The pitch was decidedly feminine, though the distance could have had him mistaken. His body warmed quickly to the call, and Darcia rose tall to his feet, throwing his head back again as he sung further, deeper into the sky -- reaching out for his unseen company. After returning in song, he began to make for the source which came from higher ground, and his eyes glowed in the night as the wolf starved for companionship hunted readily for the evening's savior. He cared little for who the stranger might turn out to be; friend or foe, Darcia would enjoy himself tonight.