Deepwood Weald to wield old partisans in hands as old

this post is a messsss

What came next for Ailithir was something he had not anticipated, but had wanted greatly. It should have bothered him that such a creature was lurking just out of reach - but it did not. Rather, he reacted to her sudden appearance with the bristling of his silver nape, a quick-footed dance that showcased a level of nimble skill he did not realize he'd acquired, and the sudden drop of his tail. Not quite tucked against his belly, but low enough (and with enough bristling) to indicate he really had no idea she had been there. 

He dove from beside her, caught his paws against the soil, and scrambled to reverse. Ailithir pirouetted but kept himself hunched low with his ears back, his teeth exposed in an grin that was more apologetic than anything. Oops, sorry, he could've been saying. The one thing he couldn't bring himself to do (no matter how strongly his instincts demanded it) was look away from her; then again, she was making noises he didn't understand, and that alone had revived his interest.

Was this a sidhe? Had she come from a secret place? And why -- to scold him? Already he was growing bold. Ailithir had been alone for months on end, and hadn't known how badly he missed pack until this wolf was before him -- woman or girl, he couldn't really tell right now, and it didn't matter. He circled closer again, losing whatever fear had sparked through him in that brief moment, stiff-legged but curious, ears erect and tail trying to lift and wag at the tip - friendly, he was trying to convey, even sheathing those teeth. Friendly --