The Sunspire your eyes were the color of some kind of grey

"Thank goodness," Wraen groaned, when the little canid complied, shut his muzzle and looked up at her fearfully. She was still angry, basking in after-effects of adrenaline and more importantly killing-mode rush, but now more in charge of the instincts. 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded in a stern voice, implying that silence and playing mute would not do this time. Either the canid answered, or...