Blackfeather Woods i'm so low that my scrotum's almost dragging up on the concrete

it would be hard to miss the cacophony that was happening in astara's quiet forest: the halls, usually full of silent gloom, pealed with shouts of anger. astara drew herself up from the ground in surprise, her long ears cupped ahead as she picked her way between bare trees towards the borders.

she didn't see moonshadow, or flicker, or mou -- but she did see two wolves that she didn't know; one was a stately grey but the other was this illuminant gold; it captured the girl's aubergine stare, and she drew towards them without fear.

no wolf had ever harmed astara - why would these be different? she was fascinated by them - the loud one was, well, exquisitely loud -- and the gold one, as blatantly as he was colored, seemed far quieter. astara wasted no time sprinting to them -- and then, once she was within striking distance, dove into an absurd playbow before tegan. he still had the ardent curves of youth to him, and that was an inviting enough reason for astara to attempt to elicit play.