Redhawk Caldera An only child of the universe

Wylla sat in silence—awkward silence, if you asked her—until Elwood's arrival, refusing to look at Towhee or her piece-of-shit bird. She kept her gaze averted and ears down until the sound of paws on the slope drew her eyes beyond the "spoiled" adolescent to a handsome older fellow draped in shades of grey. They could have been family. Elwood's yellow eyes were a shade sunnier than hers and his patterns were more layered rather than mottled like hers, but he could have passed for her father if he wanted to. He wasn't, but he was a hottie, and Wylla passed a grin up at him that oozed interest. She parted her lips to introduce herself—

—and blurted, "What is wrong with you?" with a sharp glare as Towhee began to dance around like some kind of freak instead of answering the handsome devil's question. Wylla pursed her lips, watching carefully, but Towhee's reply never came. Instead, she concluded her freak show and walked away as if nothing had ever happened, ignoring Elwood's question entirely. What the actual fuck, she wondered, but her eyes went back to Elwood and she sighed through her nose. Towhee hadn't answered him at all, but Wylla had a voice that worked properly, and she wasn't afraid to use it.

"My name's Wylla," she said, notably more submissive and soft-spoken now than she would have been if Towhee had continued to pester her or even if Towhee had remained present. "I'm a hunter and I want to join. But I ask that my food go to other wolves. I don't hunt for damn birds."