Fox's Glade there will be ghosts in the dark and voices in the air

The cagey look in the crystal blue of her eyes cut through his coat and caused his flesh to rise. The coywolf did his best to make his nimble limbs lax, at ease, but Ecael was so close. He could scent the travels that had raveled and interwoven with her coat. She had ventured as long as he had, after all, and had crossed many perilous territories. Tadec knew that he should have treated her with more welcome. They shared blood, after all. Even though the young crow did not feel a sense of closeness with her – not as he should – she was still very much a part of him.
 
Ecael admitted that she had lost the trail of their father. The thief did not hesitate to allow a smirk to crinkle his thin muzzle. The soft burn of his gaze danced with a flicker of delight before returning to their wide and watchful stare. He had lost the scent of the wolf Tiel’c many weeks back, but he did not allow this information to pass between them. She needn’t know that he had been hunting the man; it would do no good to calm their nerves.
 
“Quick limbs do not make for a quick mind,” he chided with a small tsk tsk noise and a shake of his head. It was meant as a gesture of humor against the wolf who had created them. While Tiel’c may have been fast on his striding limbs, Tadec believed that he had made too many grave mistakes. Then, his gaze locked with her own, interested suddenly. “Many wolves here. Ecael would like it,” he said with a soft nod. It had provided him with some moderate difficulty, but he had found Indra and he was pleased with the tailless woman.