Ankyra Sound The retelling of an old story

He moves towards her and instinctually a certain fear strikes her heart but is quickly assuaged by his words.  She resists the urge to laugh — she knew it was inappropriate but the laughter was not to be directed towards the male and his words but more at herself — was she really going to consider staying here?

His words had a conviction to him that she wasn't used to hearing and the shade did admittedly have a weakness for feeling valued that she almost told him she'd stay without hesitation but at the last second was able to bite down her words.  Corva, we must be more careful.

Her muzzle finds its way to his ear and she whispers, Corva Noctem.  Her name is sacred to her; in most meetings she refused to give it, referring to herself mostly with dark superlatives.  Selfishly, she decides, that he is right.  Nobody ever heeded her instructions and she was sick of seeing death and destruction plague those she tried to help.  Perhaps it was time to take care of Corva for a while.

She pulls back to a comfortable position and sighs.  Alright, hūra-azantys.  I will stay with you.  She shifts her weight between her paws and lets off stress by yawning.  The pair knew so little of each other, in the back of her mind she was convinced that this was to be a foolish mistake but she would try one more time, for the last time to settle down.

In the morning you should accompany me to your borders and I will make my claim but I warn you, sir, that I cannot promise anything.  Though the information about her visions would be kept under a tight lip, packs often had a tendency to turn her away on eyesight alone.  But for tonight.. her lips broke into a grin and she laughed, would you stay here with me?

How she loved to be adored.  What a goddamn weakness.