Fox's Glade silvertongue

Crunching snow was all that had given her away. With a quick swivel of his ear, the dark half-blood turned his head and snapped it in her direction. He was met with a sharp glint of her warm gaze and an expression that audited his every feature. The dull fire of his gaze roamed her figure for a moment before he saw the tufted fur at her rear and the stub that showed signs of a tail having been torn away. This was of particular interest to Tadec; it was an imperfection that he had not yet seen on the wolves of the wilds. The girl was coated in a burnt reddish hue that faded to softer colors on the underside of her throat and her belly. He enjoyed the resemblance to those colors and the bright rust that coated his shoulders and spine.
 
Motioning with a thrust of his muzzle, the coywolf offered a small curl of his lips and a light twitching at the tip of his tail. “You… er… tail,” his deep voice was carried like an echo of thunder as he stumbled over his words. Tadec did not want to appear rude to the girl, so he shook his head and exhaled quickly. The thief did not enjoy conversing with their kind; the sound of their tongue was so strange against his lips. “Like it,” he said with a nod, feeling as though this would suffice enough not to scare her away. The spindly creature looked at her expectantly.