Redhawk Caldera Fwoosh

The arrival of the pack's matriarch brought an unexpected turn of events.

There was — for him —an unmistakable look on the female's face. That of a mother beholding her daughter for the first time in a long time. Had he not seen such a look before he might have missed it, as he thought Nevouku did, judging by the questioning look he passed to Lucy and Skwol. Unfortunately for the greying male, his appeal for a home and for answers would have to wait.

Skwol did not turn his head. His attention was forward and rapt, but he watched his companion from corner of his eye and moved himself minutely ahead of her as she retreated step and tucked in to him. He pressed back, to comfort and to let her know that he was there for her. Her uncertainty — her fear — roused a deep need to protect and this was how he did so, without completely taking over the situation. He recognized there was no need of that, and that this was between mother and daughter. Instincts might demand that he shield Lucy and remove the source of her upset but Skwol was in control of his faculties — it was rare, now that he had matured, that he was not.

The white wolf's stance was noble. His deliberate positioning declared his intention to safeguard Lucy but he demonstrated a humble respect for their position as outsiders by averting his eyes, allowing his tail to hang loose, and inclining his ears towards his broad skull. He offered no challenge and no threat. He was but a cavalier in service to the matriarch's daughter.