Mount Apikuni Looking like you own it

     Embry noticed the female's cordial dip of the head and offered a similarly courteous salutation. He bent his muzzle ceremoniously; oceanic orbs flecked with slight imbalance at this female's considerate posture and usage of the term 'sir' (indeed, he was only a boy himself). Her name trailed across his auditory receptors as both peculiar and mellifluous, lifting a casual grin upon his maw. He enjoyed names that prompted a speculative mind.

     She seemed to drift into space for a small moment, so Embry assumed a polite stance discreetly surveying her features. A sleek, ebony female, he could only postulate that she was of some domestic origin, similar to himself. No wolf had such immaculate pelage; soft and silken despite the thick density born of wild heritage. Being the offspring of goldenmute descent, Embry withheld many of these features in his own genetics. He would have to expound upon this later in their conversation. No doubt she had a story to tell; wolfdogs always did.

     "I don't completely know what led me here, if I'm being honest." He laughed gently; allowing, for the first time, his sea-green gaze to find her own. It was dangerous to assume eye-contact without at least some figment of trust for foundation. He was shocked by the ruby depths that met him: indeed, he had never seen such vermilion a color. He hoped the stupefaction was not overwhelmingly evident.

     "Sometimes, I just follow my own paws. It's amazing where you can lead yourself, eh?" There followed another pause in which he adjusted his position to a more comfortable stature. He did not like speaking more than a few lines at a time about himself. "What does this 'band of wolves' call itself...?" Although he refrained from voicing it aloud, his facial implications suggested the rest of the question. And what makes you wish to join them? 
     
     He was wary of packs. In the past, his experience with that sort of bondage was marred by deplorable encounters; one of which still haunted the environs of his thoughts and energy. This discomfort, however, was masked exceedingly well in his attentive and characteristically jolly posture, for he was a master of the stoic.