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

“Coelho’s not a coyote… she’s just… part coyote,” he interjected with a furrowed brow. They both seemed careless about calling her something she wasn’t. Appearances weren’t everything, Bronte wanted to remind them. More than this, the young DeMonte would have died well before they had ever laid a fang against her. He was not interested in starting a fight when he was so new to their ranks, so he bit against his tongue at the quip that wanted to be released. When Rannoch inquired as to whether the sprite had been trespassing, Bronte couldn’t help but to snort softly. He turned his attention to the female who had confronted them and canted his head a bit. While he may have been wrong, Bronte was positive that his companion would not have crossed a clearly marked border. She may have been a bit airheaded, but Coelho wasn’t stupid enough to risk her life by stepping across a well-patrolled pack. There was a smug curling to his dark lip as he waited for the Sunspire stranger to answer the question that the Alpha had posed.