Blackfeather Woods i’ll take a pomegranate martini

Kove remained silent as the other spoke, listening to his words whilst continuing to look him over; his sight and hearing were honed in solely on the male before him, searching for any untruths. In his years of living—once his years as a young traveller were set aside—he had learned to pay attention to everything, from the pitch of a voice to the way their bodies moved. The skill served him well and he valued it, especially in times as trying as these. For a wolf appearing outside his home so soon after a war could so easily be looked upon as a threat of some sort, whether they were there to attack or to spy. But listening to the elder man’s voice, hearing his offer and the untouched pitch, he found no reason to worry.

“Kove,” he returned shortly after with a nod. “What services can you provide?” As his eyes adjusted to the fog surrounded them, the fine age of the other man started to become apparent to him, though that mattered not. Kove did not think any less of those aged further than himself, yet his physical capabilities were something he intended to discover; even those, with the increasing protests of his own joints, he could not be as picky without claiming the title hypocrite.