Cerulean Cape winterlied

thank you for joining! i love maia already <3

he was counting the measures when a strident voice sounded, shattering his concentration and thus composure. mahler gathered himself slowly to his broad paws, turning a baleful stare on the wolf who had called, some insipid amalgamation of beige and silver. the she-wolf appeared lost, but the dappled melodist had no intention of helping her rediscover the way that had been lost.
instead, as if in answer to her shrill demand, mahler stalked across the sands toward the girl, muzzle pointed and plume stiff. what could she possibly need that was more important than his own tasks?