Meadowlark Prairie Can't see the stars, but we're reaching

The wide field intimidated him as readily as the crimson-coated stranger intrigued him, so Ramsay hovered close enough to Blackfeather's rotted edge that he could flee back into the shadows if needbe, though perhaps not unscathed if his opposer was quick on their feet. Indra was unlike any wolf he had ever seen. Every member of the Woods pack was black, white, grey or some description in between, so the rich russet of her coat was captivating to the young boy. She was, as far as his limited world view allowed him to think, like him: different.

His short tail wiggled in interest when she replied, and his answer came quick on a breathless shout: "Raaam-see!" And then, yawning suddenly and taking a moment to try and fail to rapidly sit and scratch at his ear with a limb that was far too long for his torso, he considered her from across the way and ever-so-tactfully asked, "what want?" instead of asking her name in return.

All the while, a specter watched him from the woods, unseen and unnoticed.